


Echoes

by Looming



Series: Grey Days [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Multi, Spoilers, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-04-18 03:29:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 108,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14204058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Looming/pseuds/Looming
Summary: The smell of coffee had begun to cling to her in past months. It stung his senses even through this nightmare.And he knew then that it must be a nightmare. Because these scenes playing out for him in this order have never and could never be anything else.





	1. Chapter 1

Akira was positive he was dreaming. The cluttered bar counter. That gaudy, sparkly wallpaper. The dimmed lights, and even Makoto as she sat to his side all blushes and smiles – all of it certainly felt real, but everything seemed just out of focus. Just out of reach and cloaked in a haze of distant memories like an old, cherished letter recalled so often that the details have long faded.

“If, um… If it’s all right with you… let’s start dating, for real.” Came the mumbled response to a question he wasn’t sure he even asked.

He reached out to touch her, to search. To answer. But the moment he tried, Akira realized that he was no longer in a little corner bar in Shinjuku. No longer watching Makoto fidget and stutter and forget to brush strands of hair away from her face as she struggled to put her feelings into words. They were settled close together now, tucked away in their favorite booth at Leblanc. His previously outstretched arm now wrapped around her with fingers weaving through her hair, gently, gently scratching away as his lips pressed soft little kisses against the lobe of her ear, and she desperately, obliviously ran over their plans for dealing with her sister’s palace. The smell of coffee had begun to cling to her in past months. It stung his senses even through this nightmare.

And he knew then that it must be a nightmare. Because these scenes playing out for him in this order have never and could never be anything else; memories of a time when he still allowed himself to cling to the tiniest shred of hope.

Memories of a time before his promise was broken.

Akira closed his eyes in that moment and resigned himself for what he knew would come next. The feeling of his queen in his arms and in his hands faded to nothing. Replaced with the harsh cold of a simple metal chair, a simple metal table in a simple metal room. The feeling of their heads resting together now gone, the barrel of a gun pressed firmly to his brow taking its place. For a moment, he remained still, his head refused to lift itself up, eyes refused to meet the face attached to the threat. Because he knew that if he were to look now the only sight waiting would be that of the young charismatic detective, brown eyes shimmering with the unsettling intensity of a lake disrupted by storms, his presence all crackles and static, smothering and dizzying in a way that brought Akira to the brink of nausea.

It was such a sharp contrast from the man he had thought once, long ago, that he might...

With a sigh, Akira tilted his head up to meet that waiting, sickly gaze.

With a sigh, the detective’s feverish smile stretched its way across his face.

A slender finger wrapped around the trigger –

Akira jolted awake.

And he lay there, same as ever, trying to ground himself back in reality even as the roar of his heartbeat threatened to burst out of his chest. This was his dusty old attic. This was his tiny old bed.

A hand came to rest on the familiar black cat snoring on his chest, completely unfazed by the outburst.

This was his family. He was back, he was home.

Except he wasn’t.

Instead, as his body tumbled forward in the aftermath of everything, Akira felt himself land in the passenger seat of a cramped little car. Stuck in traffic. The driver was scolding him, and he refused to admit the man sitting at his side was Sojiro because that _could not_ be the case. He couldn’t be there again, back at the start of the year. And yet there he was. Surrounded by his family - except it wasn’t really his family. There he was spending time with a Ryuji, a Morgana and an Ann that looked and sounded and _felt_ like his Ryuji, his Ann, but could not possibly be, because it shouldn’t be possible for him to be here. It shouldn’t be possible for him to be alive.

It shouldn’t have been possible. But time pressed on. And his skepticism faded to nothing. The joy of having more time with them completely overwhelmed any remaining shadows of doubt. Because even if none of his friends consciously remembered how important they were to him, even if he was alone in _that_ , they shared a newfound trust that had not previously existed so early in the year. A level of intimacy between them with no explanation. As if something deep in their souls remembered even when they themselves did not.

This wasn’t his family, and he wasn’t back home. Except it _was_ his family. Except he _was_ home –

“Is everything okay? You should get back to sleep.”

The sound of that voice always held an uncanny ability to pull him out of his own head.

Akira couldn’t quite hold back his laughter; scratchy and ragged and proving the stubborn black cat’s point with every rise and fall of his chest. “In a bit, Morgana. Just thinking.”

“Ohhh! About Kamoshida, right? Well don’t worry about –” A yawn interrupted the halfhearted scolding for only a moment, “Don’t worry about it! As long as you’ve got me, you greenhorns should be able to handle anything!”

Another chuckle, laced all the way through with sleepy satisfaction.

“Thank you.” Akira replied, his eyes slowly closing once again.

When he was positive Morgana had finally drifted back to happy dreams of sushi and fatty tuna, he lay there, sprawled out in bed, and he did not sleep.

~~~

The nightmare remained for most of the first month.

Being returned to the start of the year had been both a blessing and a curse. Akira hadn’t lost a step in the transition – and he relished every chance to show off in the Metaverse, after all – but it also meant that shadows saw him as something far less than human, saw a vacuum of spinning blades and supernatural powers. Unavoidable and deadly, a living disaster carving its way through halls and corridors as effortlessly as the wind might ruffle a dress. Most of them learned to stay far away for fear of what might happen if spotted, and that sense of fear placed in his enemies granted him time to think. Time to dwell on the details of his dream over and over and over again until they became worn and withered and faded into the distance along with the slaughter left in his wake.

Their encounter with Kamoshida was no different. Even as the perverted ruler screeched and squealed his way through the castle’s throne room, puffing out his chest and going on and on about _worthless peasants_ come to steal his crown, Akira’s body acted on its own. Dodging and countering around every single corner in sight. The world seemed to slow around him and no amount of resistance from the monstrous shadow of a man was enough to stop him from knowing exactly where to stab or cut or target with magic.

It all seemed to slow, and gradually faded to the distance.

_The familiar smell of coffee and curry was the first to reveal itself. Second was the feeling of a body wrapped in his arms. She was currently ignoring his advances in favor of reviewing her work._

_He brushed lips against her ear as they sat together in their favorite booth, nibbling and kissing and teasing in ways that would have turned her to putty on any other day. Fingers ran through her hair as his other hand found itself moving lower and lower, tracing little trails up and down her thighs. Waiting for a reaction._

_“Makoto,” he breathed against her skin. One kiss. Two. She didn’t so much as shiver. “Makoto.”_

_“Akira. Please,” Finally, a response. An almost inaudible moan as she began to fall into his embrace, trying and failing to pull herself away. “I need to go over this plan again, because if we missed something, even the tiniest little detail… and you…” Makoto shuddered as she turned to meet his eyes, to cradle his face and make sure that he understood exactly how important this was. “I need to do this, Akira.”_

_His grip tightened around her. “Makoto. You’ve done enough. All we can do now is wait.”_

_She sighed._

_“…I know.” And she finally relented. She turned and buried herself in his arms, “I know. But I’m worried.”_

The world returned to focus for only a moment. Kamoshida had lost every trace of the pride he was so full of only minutes ago was now backing himself into a corner in a failed attempt to escape. Clutching at his crown and shrinking into himself. Whimpering. The world returned to focus long enough to know that Ann was furious; yet still trying to appeal to whatever scrap of humanity remained in the sniveling, cowering king.

_“Have you finally pieced it all together?”_

“Will you jump?” The anger seething through her voice was so thick Akira thought he might be able to reach out and touch it. “…Or would you rather die here?”

_With a sigh, Akira tilted his head up to meet that waiting, sickly gaze._

She clawed off her mask, and her Persona burst forth in a whirlwind of flames, standing tall at her back and waiting for even the slightest breath of an order to attack.

_With a sigh, the detective’s feverish smile stretched its way across his face._

A single fireball seared across the room.

_“Case closed… this is how your ‘justice’ ends.”_

Akira jolted awake. The impact of Ann’s attack colliding with a wall sent his heart threatening to escape his chest.

He did not sleep that night.

~~~

“Hey, hey, are you all right, Akira?” Morgana perched on his shoulder, hiding place in the school bag long forgotten.

He had pushed himself too hard, too fast. Tried to save everyone before they were forced to endure the same suffering he had pulled them out of once already. And he failed on every front. He barely made it through a single palace. Between that and the reoccurring nightmares, Akira supposed it was no wonder he found himself hunched over a sink in the Shujin bathrooms, out of breath and moments from collapsing not even a full day after Kamoshida’s castle crumbled to dust. The concealer he used no longer worked to cover his dark circles. He was trembling. His breaths were coming fast and shallow.

His friends noticed as soon as he arrived at school. It took Ann clutching him by the shoulders over their lunch break, demanding with more concern laced in her voice than he ever expected to hear, to _please stop trying to shoulder every little thing by yourself_ , and _please_ _rely on us_ for him to truly understand.

“I’m fine, Morgana.”

Though, whether he would readily admit to his exhaustion was another matter entirely.

He took a steadying breath and pushed himself back to his feet.

“Everything is fine. I just need to take it slow today.” He repeated with a sigh, ruffling the cat’s fur. Heart still pounding in his ears.

The expression Morgana gave in response was one of such blatant disbelief that Akira knew even without looking he had no chance of winning. He could practically _hear_ the grimacing. So instead, he took a different route, tapping his bag in a silent gesture of _get back in before someone sees you_.

“I promise. Let’s go get some studying done and then we’ll head straight home.” It came as an offer, but the way he spoke offered no room for argument.

Morgana stayed in place for a long moment, matching his gaze in the mirror in an entirely too dramatic battle of wills before finally turning away with a huff and crawling back into his hidden nest, fussing and grumbling all the way.

~~~

The pair managed to make it to the library with no problems – not that Akira truly expected any – but he found that entering presented an entirely different kind of trouble. _She_ was there. He used the library so rarely it almost escaped his mind that he had seen her here on occasion before their first true meeting. He shook his head and refocused. Staring through the door window was bound to cause a scene. _There’s no reason to hesitate, she won’t remember anyway, right?_

The hushed conversations of those not quite studying disappeared in an instant as he stepped inside. Makoto was the only person entirely unbothered by the idea of the terrifying criminal transfer student daring to enter the library.

He took a single step forward and the room erupted into gossip and whispers. She remained engrossed in her work through it all, so Akira continued on. And as he reached the table, as he placed a hand on a chair at the edge of her line of sight, she finally granted him a look. Piercing him with those intense, crimson eyes.

“Do you mind if I study here?” Akira tilted his head a bit like a curious kitten as he asked, playing harmless for the moment.

The whispers grew louder and louder until they were hardly even still whispers. Until they became a wall of noise blocking out everything but them. She kept her gaze fixed on him, firm and unwavering as she worked through the scene playing out before her, and then something flickered. And she softened. And if Akira didn’t know better, he might even have claimed to see the beginnings of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“Of course.” She replied. A simple thing, but he couldn't help feel there was something more to it.

Neither of them broke eye contact as Akira took his seat, and he found that he was almost too scared to breathe in case it broke whatever sparked between them in that moment. It was all at once new and familiar and it hurt and he realized that he missed her almost too much to be doing this. Makoto was the first to look away, though only for a moment before returning to meet him once again, eyes shining with a newfound curiosity, “I’m sorry,” She started, and the room seemed to quiet in response, “But have we met before? You seem so familiar.”

Their audience reacted at an almost deafening level, and Akira froze as the beginning of something next to hope pulsed its way through the space beneath his heart. _Maybe this is enough. Maybe I’m allowed this much._

At the thought, a smirk spread across his lips, one he hadn’t worn in an eternity. One he long since traded in for a small grin full of the remorse that had come to punctuate so many of his interactions in this new year.

Joker’s smile.

He leaned forward enough to close the space between them and brought his head to rest in a hand.

She didn’t flinch.

Not until Akira stared deep into her eyes and whispered in the way that always seemed to send lightning up her spine.

_“I wonder.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been rolling this idea around in my head for a couple months now. I think I'm satisfied with where everything is at, so I guess we'll see where this thing goes! 
> 
> Hopefully you all enjoy, thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

As far as rumors went, the transfer student was a violent yakuza member with an unspeakably dark past, covered in tattoos and well on his way to leading his own family. He spent time in a small town to work undercover on an assassination mission for the larger clan – which no one dared to name – and was currently back in Tokyo on probation after being bailed out of prison. Oh, and he was _definitely_ only spending time with the student council president to involve her in his next big scheme.

As far as the rumors went, anyway.

Makoto wasn’t sure what to think.

She recalled the day they first met. He was the only one who ever bothered to… bother her, when she was studying. The room went wild with gossip the moment he stepped inside, and he seemed completely oblivious to it all. In fact, he seemed to be focused solely on her. And… as embarrassing as it was to admit, she was focused only on him. On him and how the setting sun, seemingly sharing her thoughts, peeked in through the windows and framed every one of his features in an almost ethereal glow. Or else she would have done something.

About the talking.

Even from that single encounter, she didn’t know how a single one of the rumors about him could ever be true; everything from his voice to the way he carried himself, to the way those dark, fluffy curls came to rest against his face was sweet and comforting and sent her heart pounding away. His whole presence felt calming. Almost… nostalgic. And in all the time they spent studying together at their table – when had she started to think of it as “theirs,” anyway? – he never laid a single hand on her. He never even offered to spend time together after they finished! The occasional bit of small talk was the only thing he ever took, and she offered it gladly.

He was mystery. Akira Kurusu…

“Um… I don’t mean to be rude,” Came a hushed voice, not quite behind her. The librarian? “But maybe you shouldn’t come here anymore. The library is meant to be a safe place for students, and – “

“I just want to check out this book.”

_Kurusu!_

Makoto nearly tore the back straight off her chair, spinning around to catch him in time. He was still standing at the counter. Of course he was, he couldn’t possibly have finished so quickly.

She turned back to her textbooks and tried to regain her composure. _Deep breaths, Makoto._

His eyes were burning into her back. Was it possible to feel someone looking at you? No, she could definitely feel him looking. And he was talking again in that silky smooth voice of his, and he was leaving. And she _really_ needed to get back to her studies.

Except that now he was sitting next to her. She could hear the librarian make some sort of noise in frustration.

“Hey there, Miss President.” He teased as he leaned closer. He liked to tease, Makoto had come to learn. “Anything I can help you with?”

She found herself wondering if he ever teased his girlfriend like that. Because there was no way he didn’t have one. Or a boyfriend, he certainly liked to spend time with those blonde troublemakers… Him and his warm, fluffy presence and fluffier hair and – _Oh, right, he asked a question.  People are meant to reply to that sort of thing._

“A…ah… no, I was just wondering if you planned on joining me today as well.”

And now she was struggling to keep eye contact and barely avoiding turning into a blushing mess. _I suppose this at least proves those rumors about me being a robot false. Pull it together, Makoto._

He wasn’t answering. And the smile he wore as those bottomless silver pools he had the nerve to call eyes held her in place was too much to deal with. Because now the light dusting of pink on her cheeks she only barely managed to hold back had traded itself in for a deep, deep shade of red traveling from the tips of her ears to the bottoms of her toes. She hated this. She loved this. A fierce lightness worked its way through her heart, and at its side was an inescapable nagging feeling that something about him felt so, truly, honestly, _painfully_ , familiar. Maybe she would find the answer deeper in his eyes; maybe she could just let herself drown in there, and –

“Mmm, I don’t know that I should.” He somehow managed to lean even closer and, oh, Makoto was gone now, lost in his eyes forever. There was no way around it anymore. “I wouldn’t want to be a bad influence on you. They say I’m some sort of supervillain mastermind, you know.”

“Oh. But you’re not…”

He laughed then, and the sound nearly made her heart stop.

_Oh no. Look away. I’m stronger than this. But, I… I don’t think I’ve ever heard him laugh before. Oh no. Oh no._

By the time Makoto finally gathered herself back together, he was gone. And she was left stranded alone at her table.

And then she could feel him behind her, and his hand was resting on the back of her neck. Her breath caught in her throat; this was the first time he ever touched her, and _why_ was this the first time he ever touched her? It felt so embarrassingly intimate, and she liked it more than she cared to admit, and he was leaning over her shoulder, and his face was so, _so_ close, and there was no way this behavior was appropriate in front of a room full of students… at all – At all! But now she could feel his breath as it danced across her ear and… and…

_Oh no._

“I’m in a bit of a hurry today, unfortunately. I’ll make it up to you soon. Promise.” _Oh no._ “See you around, Miss President.”

_…Oh no._

The slow drag of fingers across her nape pulled out a startled gasp. The brush of words against her skin sent fire along every inch of her.

It burned long after he left.

~~~

They left the theater just before sunset, when the chill of night had begun to tangle itself around lingering spaces of heat, and took off walking toward nowhere in particular.

Akira hadn’t paid much attention to the movie, not that he had any real choice in the matter.

Ryuji and Ann cornered him after class and demanded that they were spending an evening together to relax, to enjoy themselves, and most importantly to stop him from worrying about anything related to Kamoshida or the Metaverse while no one was looking. He tried to argue; to say that it really wasn’t as much of a problem as they believed, and that they shouldn’t go out of their way.

In response, each of his favorite overprotective blondes wrapped themselves around each of his arms and hummed little promises of _Yes, yes, you’re perfectly fine_ and _Don’t worry it’s no trouble at all, we just want to spend time with you_ as they all but carried him off to the subway station. They were at least polite enough to let him make a short detour to the school’s library – even if they waited outside the door ready to burst in at the first hint he might be trying to escape.

They didn’t let go of his arms for the entire duration of the showing.

It was a horror movie.

They both hate horror.

And it really wasn’t fair, he thought. Spending evenings with Makoto had already felt like far too much to ever hope for. But in came these two balls of sunshine, acting like nothing ever happened, like he hadn’t ever died and left them and…

It wasn’t fair to have this feeling of belonging so soon after failing them all in the worst way imaginable.

And yet he had it. So he resolved, no matter how undeserving he truly was that he would enjoy every second. Because it was the absolute least _they_ deserved. He also recognized somewhere deep down inside that if Ryuji was able to hear his thoughts, he would end up with a slap on the back of the head and a scolding along the lines of _No, enjoy it for yourself, dumbass._

Even if Akira already enjoyed their company for that reason. No one else but these two would think to force him to exercise at a gym for hours, or demand that he come along for a day-long shopping trip. Or drag him to a movie theater and insist _This is for your own good!_ as they kept him pinned to his seat. They cared, and they expressed it in ways that only they could. Akira loved that about them more than he could ever put to words.

“Alright!” exclaimed Ryuji, clapping his hands together and startling more than a few passersby in the process, “I dunno about you two, but I’m starvin’! How 'bout we head somewhere to eat?”

“Absolutely!” Ann replied.

Akira took a moment to unzip his bag; to allow Morgana time to stretch. Time for himself to take in the surroundings and time for his two dates to work out where to take their evening next. He couldn’t quite hold back a smile at the sight.

When it became clear no one was going to come to an agreement, he asked. “Why don’t we head to my place?”

Perfectly innocent, perfectly aware that neither of them knew he lived in a cafe.

The looks they gave in response – an almost perfect mix of concern and embarrassment – were more than worth withholding that little detail, Akira decided.

He shrugged, a tiny, fluid movement of his shoulders.

“I live in a cafe. The owner is my guardian for the year.” And he only barely stifled a smile as relief washed over them both. “It’s a bit out of the way if you don’t mind the trip, but it’s only a short walk from the station.”

Ann nearly snorted as realization dawned on Ryuji.

That had been one of Akira’s favorite realizations in this new year – Ann was always perceptive, but she learned very quickly what it was that Akira felt for them both. She was always more than happy to indulge in singling out Ryuji over that fact, and if things ever shifted focus to her, she was ready at a moment’s notice to give as good as she got.

“Oh. You shoulda opened with that, dude!”

Suddenly Akira was smirking. “I might’ve forgotten to mention it on purpose.” And suddenly Ann had joined in with a grin of her own. And suddenly Ryuji was sputtering and mumbling and flashing between a truly incredible number of emotions until it was decidedly no longer suddenly, and his cheeks began to redden.

“I can make you both some coffee as thanks for today. I really appreciate it.”

There was a long pause, one that had Akira beginning to think his musclehead broke down right there in the street. But he finally, mostly anyway, gathered himself together and managed to mumble out, “…Not sure I like coffee.”

“You’ll like _my_ coffee.” Akira’s voice softened even further as he tilted his head in that way that he had. Disarming, calming, so many different things all at once.

It had the opposite effect on Ryuji.

“Ohh, how about that, Ryuji?”

“So? I’m not hearing a no, Ryuji.”

“Yeah, yeah! Come on Ryuji!”

“I. Effin’...” He turned away. He huffed. He shoved a hand into a pocket and then awkwardly ran it through his hair to scratch at nothing in particular. “…Okay. Yeah. That sounds nice.”

“Great! Now let’s go see what our boyfriend’s new dad thinks of us!”

“H-he’s not! He…” Ryuji tried to argue back, he really did, but Akira and Ann were already dragging him off toward the station as they wore their matching smiles and laughed their matching laughs. He couldn’t help but surrender and join in.

~~~

_Makoto?_

A familiar blur of brown hair dashed behind a pillar as Akira’s group reached their platform. Ann and Ryuji were talking amongst themselves, mostly about food – the short walk had somehow made them both even hungrier. Morgana was already back to napping the day away in his bag, content to simply be along for the ride, so nobody noticed when Akira took off on his own to investigate.

He closed the distance and rounded behind her before she knew what was happening.

“Do you make a habit of spying on people, Miss President?” His question came as a gentle whisper.

Makoto spun around and half stumbled backward until she was standing out in the open. Until she was staring at him, eyes wide and hands clutching at the strap of her bag as he closed the distance once again.

“Kurusu!”

A small smile curved at the corners of his mouth. Mischief danced away in his eyes. He waited. Only when she finally, truly regained her composure did she continue.

“No. I, um…” A small sigh as her blush finally caught up to her, “I didn’t leave school until late today. And I was distracted and ended up on the wrong train going the wrong way. I just got back.” Her grip loosened ever so slightly as her head ducked away. “Then you started walking over and… I was… hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

“Mm. Take care of yourself, all right?” Glancing to his side with an apologetic smile, Akira noted that even here the two of them seemed to have an audience. Two blonde heads all but gawking at the scene in front of them. His voice lightened, and he tucked his hands into his pockets as he turned to face her again. “I’d hate to see something happen to my study partner.”

“R… right.” Makoto seemed to consider his answer for a time, and then she breathed deep and centered herself. “Can I ask why you’ve been spending time with me? Why not with other people from your own class, I mean.”

Visions of days together, evenings and nights, so many tiny little moments began to swim through Akira’s mind. So many stolen kisses. So many quiet dates and quieter nights. Study sessions and sparring matches. Little chaste touches and looks that led to fierce and unrelenting moments of passion so intense that they even began to hurt, pleasure bleeding over into pain and rolling back all over again.

It was always something different with her; always something more. They had learned how to draw each other out, taught each other how to grow into something bigger together than they ever were on their own. They had a rhythm, a communion, an indescribable something that was truly and uniquely _them_. It lifted them through so many days of planning and studying, learning and teaching. Through so many evenings spent drowning in bliss, aching and vicious and only thinking of _please, more, don’t you ever stop. Not when we could die as soon as we leave this room. Not ever._

They were the leaders. They were an unbreakable team, both in the Metaverse and out.

“Well.” He shifted impossibly closer. “Because I like you, and I like seeing all the little faces that you make when you get embarrassed.”

Makoto tried to look down. The only thing in sight anymore was Akira.

“…I see.”

“But more than that” He reached cautiously toward her temple, and Makoto’s eyes shot back to him in an instant because he was drawing a stray strand of hair through the tips of his fingers. “I like the you that’s confident. The you that’s sure of herself. And I enjoy your company even on days when all we do is sit together in silence.”

His expression was tinged with something between pleasure and regret, and just as soon as he had touched her, his hand was gone. Makoto was left staring, nearly speechless.

She was smiling.

“Oh! By the way, did you finish whatever had you in such a hurry earlier?” She blurted, and Akira couldn’t help but admire how tactlessly she rushed to keep that confession from hanging between them.

“Yes, I did.” Another quick glance at the pair of blondes in the distance. “I’m treating the two of them to dinner as thanks.” Ann and Ryuji appeared to have recovered enough to continue their conversation, but each continued to steal occasional little looks. “I’ve been overworking myself lately.”

Makoto quirked an eyebrow.

“They wanted to help me relax.” He clarified, punctuating the sentence with a small chuckle. “Even if all we did was see a movie, they treated it like it was the most important thing in the world.”

“…They sound nice.” Makoto murmured, and Akira could feel something in the way she stared that told him she truly meant it.

“They are. This is the absolute least I can do as thanks.”

Makoto gave another small smile. They remained together like that for a long, long moment; barely a handspan between them and neither moving an inch as an unspoken question danced through the air.

_…Who are you? You feel so safe…_

Akira was first to break the silence.

“Have a good evening, you.”

~~~

The group rode without speaking a word. They wanted to ask. Akira simply waited. It seemed like nothing might happen until Ryuji, evidently only barely holding himself back, let his question burst through the quiet.

“Was that the student council pres.?”

“Mhm.” Was all Akira gave in response.

“…Oh.”

Akira smiled his favorite smile and turned to the window.

~~~

Leblanc was empty when they arrived. Quiet and peaceful, save for Sojiro sitting at the far end of the bar and mumbling through the day’s newspaper. Further back, the TV droned away barely audible offers of deals and discounts.

Ann and Ryuji were immediately taken with the atmosphere of the place. They went back and forth about the smell and the look and the feel and anything and everything, and the whole scene seemed to knock Sojiro right out of his chair. Ann liked _this,_ and Ryuji liked _that_ , but then, oh, they both liked _those_ , and it wasn’t long before they had started on about _I wonder what the food tastes like_ and _Oh, the coffee! He promised you good coffee, remember!_

Sojiro only stood by his seat, frozen.

After blinking himself back to reality, he remembered to ask. “Kid, who’re they?”

The question hit Akira with a sudden, intense awareness of the image they must have made in that moment. A criminal with a cat popping out of his school bag, struggling to climb its way out. A model on one arm and a boy that looked like even more trouble than himself on the other.

Ann chimed in with a blinding grin and dispelled Sojiro’s usual gruff act in an instant. “Hello! Akira here has been an absolute sweetheart lately.”

“Yeah!” Ryuji added with a slap on his friend’s shoulder, voice nearly erupting with pride. “Guy’s been runnin’ himself into the ground trying to help us out with school and everything.”

Despite his best efforts, embarrassment washed over Akira, and he hid his smile with a turn of his head and twirl of hair between his fingers.

“Huh…” Sojiro stroked his beard as he scanned over the group. There was satisfaction in his eyes, like an old friend back to visit for the first time in ages. “Come on, kid. I assume you brought them here for a meal, that means you’re helping.”

His bag found a home on a nearby chair, freeing Morgana to wander around. Akira shuffled past to the back of the counter and put on his apron – Sojiro set him to work preparing their coffee as he drifted into the kitchen to start the curry. Ann and Ryuji settled into opposite sides of the center booth without a word, and both sets of eyes quickly found themselves glued to Akira, wistfully watching his every move.

“Hey Akira?” Ann asked, carefully.

A silent nod.

“You ignored Ryuji earlier, but what _was_ that with the student council president?” Her voice was bursting with amusement; Ann wasn’t about to let him go.

“We study together from time to time.” He tried, still carefully watching his work. “I don’t think she expected to see us.”

“…That seemed like more than study partners, Akira” She remarked, and it pulled a chuckle from Akira that forced him to pause in his task. As he raised his head, he could clearly see how a familiar mischief filled every bit of her.

“You almost –”

Ryuji interrupted before she had a chance to finish. Ah, there wasn’t any way out of this. “You looked like you were gonna kiss her right the hell there, man!”

The sudden flare of pride from Sojiro didn’t go unnoticed.

Akira finally met their eyes. “Would you prefer I said we were just friends?”

“That’s better, but I still think you’re lying.” Her answer came with an easy smile. There _really_ wasn’t any way out. “How about this, if all you do is study together then you probably don't know how she likes her coffee, right?”

Akira let the question sit for a moment. He could easily tell them; tell them the _real_ answer, that yes, they were at one point more than friends, and yes, he was flirting, and yes, it had been going on for some time. He could. Easily. But Ann was playing a game, and it was one he had no intention of losing. “With milk and sugar.” _Talking about before isn’t cheating, right?_ “She doesn’t have many preferences beyond that, no specific blends or anything. I’ve managed to get her away from the _really_ sweet stuff, but she only agreed to that under the condition that I make it for her more often.”

His voice grew softer as he continued. “Honestly, I think she just wanted an excuse to spend more time here apart from doing schoolwork.”

Ryuji looked to Ann. She was staring back at Akira with a knowing smirk, even as he matched it with one of his own. It was the sort of answer she wanted. But it wasn’t. And she looked unsure what to do with the knowledge that he would so willingly give himself up.

After a pause she replied, and a small giggle finally escaped. “…And you’re _just_ friends?”

“Just friends.”

Muffled by the sounds of the television, Sojiro silently laughed as he continued his work in the kitchen.

Drinks and food were served soon after. Ryuji enjoyed his exactly as much as Akira promised; they both knew he would. Akira remained behind the counter for most of the evening. Endless minutes of stirring and brewing and doing anything Sojiro asked, because the man decided that he needed to know details about how his charge ended up with such close friends so soon after arriving in Tokyo. _In case they’re criminals like you, kid. Now get back to work_ , was his excuse, but he always was terrible at hiding his joy. A phone call finally pulled him away from his lighthearted questioning, and he rushed home, leaving Akira to close the shop.

So Akira glided around, continuing to scrub dishes and clean tabletops while Ann and Ryuji talked quietly amongst themselves.

He made sure to hide his grin when he noticed them staring, the three of them all dreamy smiles and hooded eyes.

After finishing his work, as he moved to take his seat, Akira locked eyes with a very content Ryuji.

_“…Feels like we’ve known him forever.”_

_“Yeah. He’s incredible.”_

He froze. They noticed. They always did. 

Slowly, he sat down next to Ann, not trusting his legs to carry him the extra steps needed to reach the other side of the table. He turned away from them both as he buried his rapidly blushing face into a palm.

With an airy laugh and a gently whispered "Akira." She wrapped an arm around his waist and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.


	3. Chapter 3

Standing in the middle of a golden hallway, next to a gold trimmed trashcan and glowing gold elevator buttons, Akira felt troubled. Far less because of the gold – that had been easier to deal with this time around. But because he couldn’t stop thinking about how familiar the man in front of him looked. He dressed like every single head of a tech startup, surrounded himself with nearly identical yes-men, and wore tinted glasses. And he looked entirely, thoroughly unmemorable from the top of his head to the bottom of his goatee. But Akira knew he recognized him. For reasons deeper than having lived through this day once already.

He could tell that much.

There was _something_ about that man’s presence that chilled him to the bone. And then someone from the mob of cronies bumped into Ryuji. It quickly turned into a shoving match. There was yelling, and dragging, and then they were standing back at their buffet table and receiving a scolding from Ann.

_Could it really be that simple? It couldn’t possibly be him._

He shoved the thought down. Buried it and all its accompanying anxieties deep down at the bottom of the ocean of worries he already had to focus on; saving his friends, saving his family – that took priority. This was supposed to be a happy day. Kamoshida confessed. Akira breathed deep and looked to Ann and Ryuji. Sitting on opposite sides of their oversized table, a truly ridiculous number of empty plates stacked high in the distance between them; the two were poking at a subject that neither wanted to touch.

He interrupted, calm and steady. “How would you feel about continuing our work as the Phantom Thieves?”

After dancing around the point for so long, hearing the question phrased so directly snapped the two into silence. They worked their mouths almost perfectly in sync, trying and failing to reply.

He pressed on. “It would be naive to think Kamoshida was the only monster out there. There are more people that need saving.” He looked to Ann as she chewed at her bottom lip, to Ryuji as he nearly scowled a hole through their table. He placed a palm on Morgana’s head. “…There are more people that we can help.”

Nobody said a word, and the silence between them grew and grew until it was almost suffocating. A sense of dread slowly cloaked itself around Akira with every second that it continued, until the confidence he opened with only moments ago was smothered into nothing – he still wasn’t entirely sure whether it was safe to make changes during this new year. A worry he would freely admit was useless given how many moments he already went out of his way to see through differently. Still, that all-consuming feeling of fear began to seep into every pore of his being.

And as soon as it became unbearable, Ryuji was there to wash the feeling away to nothing.

With a laugh bubbling through his every word and a fire in his eyes, he agreed. “Took the words right outta my mouth!”

“Yeah...” Ann followed, the strength of her convictions came through every bit as clearly. “I don’t want to go back to how I was before, we can’t ever let ourselves ignore anyone else in trouble!”

“Heh, and with me as your teacher there’s nothing you three can’t accomplish! Don’t ever go doubting yourselves again!” Even Morgana was on board.

A weight lifted itself from Akira’s shoulders in that instant.

He wouldn’t have to worry about ruining this second chance after all. Which meant all that remained was to put in the work and find some way to help everyone. Sooner. A plan to make up for the mistakes he couldn’t have seen coming before. One that helped everyone and one that didn’t leave him an exhausted husk.

One that relied on his family.

~~~

Makoto stood in front of the principal’s desk, wondering what could possibly be so important that she needed to be pulled out of class. The students had been talking almost endlessly about “The Phantom Thieves of Hearts” and Kamoshida’s episode the other day, but there was no way the principal would call her down to his office to discuss something like th –

“You saw the state Kamoshida was in, didn’t you?” He blustered with a strange confidence, like he thought he was letting loose some grand surprise that Makoto could never have intuited on her own. “His personality has completely changed. Something is definitely wrong here.”

_Ah. It really is that simple. I suppose it always is._

She silently cocked an eyebrow. If he was going to demand that she involve herself in something so childish, the least she could do in response was make him come to her.

The principal continued undaunted, every inch of him dripping with pride and a desire to hear more of his own voice. “I hear the transfer student, Akira Kurusu was meddling in his business. Him and that blonde boy. The loud one.”

So that was it.

“I also hear you have been spending time with the transfer student, so you should know just how dangerous he can be. If he did something to Kamoshida you would know better than anyone what methods might have been used. Firsthand experience is a wonderful teacher.”

Makoto’s throat dried.

She tore through her memories, barely hearing the principal anymore. Had she seen Kurusu even once since that scene in the gym? They met in the subway only a few days earlier, and he was there supporting the girl… Takamaki? He was there to support her while she said her piece to Kamoshida. But after that… He hadn’t been in the library to study for days. He seemed to be in a huge hurry to leave lately, and she supposed that his sudden disappearance might be seen as an attempt to lay low; a very bad attempt, but an attempt nonetheless.

_Was… Was I wrong about him?_

“Did you hear me, Miss Niijima?” The principal tapped his desk. “I would like you to look into this.”

But then, if it was true, if he _was_ a criminal, why did his every word feel so… comforting? Makoto wasn’t about to deny that charisma was an important part of being a successful criminal; she had learned that well enough from her father and sister. And even beyond that, as student council president she had seen her fair share of delinquent students. But he was different from a dangerous man putting up an act. His warmth was _real._ Being near him felt like a sunny evening sat out on a porch or curling yourself up under an oversized blanket during the winter. Even when he teased, it seemed to come from a place of utter admiration. There was never any malice in his voice when they spoke, and he seemed to have an uncanny ability to know exactly where her boundaries were. He refused to ever cross them. Even that day in the subway when they almost…

When he could so easily have…

“Miss Niijima.” Again, the principal tried for her attention. “Unless you find the students responsible, these actions will likely continue. We can not have our school associated with such a high-profile crime. Do you understand?”

“…Yes.”

“Good. Now, there is one last matter to discuss before you go.” He smiled as he spoke. A fake, unpracticed smile that stretched at his face in all the wrong ways. “If you do this for me, I will write you a recommendation letter for the university of your choice. If, however, you fail to catch those responsible, you will find your future prospects… severely limited, so to speak.”

His smile grew; it pulled at his skin until everything seemed far too tight for his features, nearly as tight as his suit.

Makoto grit her teeth. “I understand, Principal Kobayakawa.”

“Good. Good, you may go.”

She could feel his smile drop at her first step back into the hallway.

Her eyes drifted shut, and one deep breath later, her sense of calm was restored. She hadn’t paid attention to most of his speech, but the point was clear: The principal didn’t care about Kurusu. About… Akira. He would have been a useful pawn to boost the school’s reputation if he graduated, but now his role had shifted – he was to be a scapegoat for Kamoshida’s crimes. Makoto couldn’t accept that. She wouldn’t. So, if the principal wanted him investigated so badly… she would oblige.

But only to prove that Akira was innocent.

Only to prove that her feelings for him weren’t misplaced. Even if she couldn’t explain what they were; even if she couldn’t explain where they came from or why they existed. She would prove that he wasn’t a criminal and that she was right to feel these things about him. She would return his chance at a future.

…She would need to apologize to him, when everything was said and done.

“Ah!” She gasped abruptly, snapping a hand over her mouth. At some point she had wandered to the school’s library and was staring through the door window. Classes let out for the day at some point during her meeting with the principal, and students had already poured their way in to study.

Akira included.

He was sitting at his usual seat, at his… _their_ usual table, and he was searching for something. His eyes drifted around from one corner of the room to the next, and Makoto felt guilt over their situation try to push its way out of her throat. _Is he looking for me?_

Akira dropped his head with a sigh. He moved to grab his books.

Makoto fled the building before she thought to do anything stupid.

~~~

The following weeks had been frustrating, to say the least. Makoto became intensely aware as the days dragged on that all she wanted was to go back to the way things were. All she wanted was to go back to those quiet evenings studying and chatting with Akira. But this investigation was important. It was for his sake.

Hopefully he would find it in his heart to forgive her when she proved his innocence.

The doors to the roof creaked open and closed with a heavy slam. She took in the sight in front of her; Akira leaned against the side of an air conditioning unit while the two blondes sat in scattered desks. A cat darted into the shadows the second the doors closed. All eyes were on her.

“This place is off limits, you know.” Her heart broke a bit at the tone in her voice. _This is no time to feel bad. I can apologize when this is over. He can hate me for now, if that’s what it takes._

“We’ll get outta here when we finish chatting.” Ryuji was immediately hostile. Something about that felt a strange sort of comforting. “Anyways, what’s Miss Council President want with us?”

After a long silence, Makoto turned to face Akira. “Hm. It seems I was right after all” A smirk began to form at the corners of her mouth despite her every effort to bury it. “They _are_ nice.”

Akira stared, his expression a perfectly blank mask. And then he answered with a smile that stole every bit of breath Makoto had left in her lungs. “No need for the attitude, Ryuji.” He didn’t so much as try to break eye contact with her. She didn’t either. “So, you. We can head somewhere else if you were hoping to talk.”

“No. no.” She shot back. Too fast. She had to stop letting him affect her so intensely or she would end up ruining this chance to gather information. “You should all hear this.”

Makoto blushed. So faintly that she knew only Akira would notice. _He can hate me for this. It’s okay if he hates me for this._

“There have been rumors going around the school recently – there are always rumors going around, but – well, the school has been rather interested in both these “Phantom Thieves” and the calling cards they left for Mr. Kamoshida… and your involvement with him.” She brushed a strand of hair out of her face, noting the suspicion already seeping back into the air. “All three of you were the target of his ire in the weeks leading up to his confession for one reason or another, all three of you had reason to hate him.” She worked her throat. “According to the rumors, anyway.”

The group stared in silence, judging her, sizing her up, it didn’t much matter at this point. Any hope at salvaging how they viewed her was already gone. They should hate her.

“Do you believe all that gossip?” Ann replied carefully, her voice faint and just a bit higher than Makoto remembered from their scattered encounters. She filed that detail away in her mind along with the strange wave of déjà vu she felt in response. “I wouldn’t have expected you to be interested in those sorts of things, Miss Pres.!”

“Normally I wouldn’t be, but I’ve been asked to investigate the truth of these claims.” Makoto sighed, glancing over to Akira as she spoke. He looked strangely satisfied. “Which is why –”

“You want us off the roof, and you’re closing it to the rest of the school for the time being.” Akira chimed in, in a tone that brushed along her skin in much the same way as all of his teasing and flirting. “Because it’ll be easier to keep track of us that way.”

He stepped forward and ducked his head, just enough that he was staring at her through his bangs. Makoto was frozen. She hadn’t expected him to react as if nothing was wrong; to respond with all the confidence in the world after being faced with such an accusation. It left her feeling something that couldn’t quite name itself as either relief or fear. She felt something uplifting and uncomfortable, as if it was both at once.

Akira’s hand brushed along her own as he passed. She could have sworn their fingers tangled together for a fleeting moment. “Come on, you two, let’s go.”

She remained on the roof long after the doors closed, waiting for her feelings to come into focus.

_…Why are you like this? Why can’t you just make this easier and hate me?_

~~~

Makoto used the following days as time to find out more about the three she was following. Ryuji Sakamoto and Ann Takamaki – it took finally reading their files to learn their names – had simple enough motivations. Judging by how quick the two of them jumped to extreme reactions during the meeting on the Shujin roof, Makoto decided it was best to save any further direct encounters with them for a last resort. They would be no doubt be useful if it became necessary, but her target was Akira. If he couldn’t prove himself then she would simply have to pull the answer of his innocence out of his friends.

There were moments, as she looked through Akira’s file, where flashes of scenes she had never lived played in her mind. Incredibly vivid and yet cloudy and unclear all at once. Glimpses of some other life where she was happy and content washed over her as if she was watching it all play out through an old, ruined mirror.

_His lips felt incredible against the skin of her neck._

The sensations grew more intense, more real, as she read about the crime that placed him here.

_His tongue darted out to lap at her clavicle._

His current living situation.

_His fingers stroked across her body, along her belly and her ribs, along the sides of her breasts and up, up further until he was cradling her face and she was lost in his eyes. Lost in the endless storm of his gaze with no hope or desire to escape._

She shrugged it off as the result of overworking herself, daydreams of some unattainable fantasy, and decided that tomorrow was as good a day as any to restart her investigation. On a smarter note, this time.

Which is how she found herself standing almost back to back with Akira and his friends on the morning train ride to Shujin, eavesdropping on their every word. The group sounded concerned that someone might be following them. Makoto worried she had been caught for a split second before realizing that they couldn’t possibly be talking about her, she only resumed her work today.

_I don’t think he noticed me._

Once their train arrived at its stop, Akira casually led Takamaki off the train by the arm. Sakamoto followed behind at an equally leisurely pace. It seemed they were set on catching their stalker then and there, how long were they being followed? Makoto hid herself behind a corner to see what she missed in the break from her investigation.

_I don’t think he noticed me._

Someone wearing a school uniform she didn’t recognize finally confronted the group as they stood in waiting along the sidewalk. Between the pieces of Ann giving the man a piece of her mind, Makoto could make out that he had dark hair that fell to his chin, so black that it almost seemed blue in the morning light. He was tall. And he seemed thin, unhealthily so. Everyone appeared to calm down as a black car pulled up and one of the occupants added something to the conversation. The student explained himself, and Makoto could only make out a few words. Both? Model? Painting? Was their stalker an extremely tactless artist? He was certainly interested in Ann, but it seemed that Akira caught his attention even more after finally getting the opportunity to talk… was he asking to make a painting of those two? What kind of –

Oh.

Makoto stepped out from behind the wall. She recognized the way Akira was looking at the artist; that was the face he wore whenever they were alone together. The artist didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t care in the slightest. He gently handed Akira a few tickets, and after a small back and forth handed over another. He wore a steadily growing smile and mentioned something about an exhibit, and then he was on his way. Akira remained glued to that spot. He brought the tickets to rest against his lips, deep in thought while his two friends talked. They looked confused about the entire interaction.

She could make out four tickets.

_I don’t think he –_

Akira locked eyes with Makoto.

And he smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

It was raining.

The three of them were stuck outside, and it was raining.

Akira didn’t mind as much as the others. Though honestly, he was hard pressed to mind something like this as much as Ann or Ryuji, or even Morgana. Instead, the repetitive thrum of raindrops against his umbrella served to shove everything else to the side and allow him time to simply shut off. He had spent so much time trying to plan out methods to save the other Thieves sooner than before and had absolutely nothing to show for it.

_Maybe… maybe just spending time with Yusuke is enough._

Easing his struggle wasn’t quite preventing it, but Akira loved them all too much to pretend that counted for nothing.

To his side, Ryuji sighed as the line shifted forward. Not even a full step. Barely a fraction of an inch. Akira could practically hear his thoughts screaming something like _How does that even –_

“How’s that even happen!?” He exploded as loud as he could manage while trying to keep his voice a whisper.

Akira stifled a smile and looked away.

A playful chop found its way to the top of Ryuji’s head.

He turned, and the attacker’s fingers slowly fell to tangle with his hair and scratched lightly at his scalp until his frustration faded away to nothing.

“You have to be quieter, dummy.” Ann murmured as her fingers trailed from his head, stroking along his jaw and returning to her side. “Kitagawa was nice enough to invite _all_ of us, don’t ruin it before we even get inside.”

“Yeah, about that.” He shot back, all faux outrage and frustration because he had never been able to stand up to Ann over anything, and he had _definitely_ never been able to stand up to Ann when Akira was right there at her side, grinning and tilting his head like he thought Ryuji was incapable of doing wrong. Akira wore that expression a lot, lately. “Why am I here? He only wanted t’paint the two of you and Akira couldn’t possibly have been more obvious that he has a thing for the guy,” He turned away from them both, staring off into the distance. “But I felt like a third wheel the other day n’ I feel like one now.”

Ann looked to Akira. Ryuji looked to Akira. The line moved forward.

Akira smirked.

“You say that like I don’t have a thing for you, too.” Their eyes locked together until the last bits of Ryuji’s fake anger crumbled to dust. “We all want you here, Ryuji. Think of it as a date.”

“Besides,” Ann cut in, ushering the other two forward before they started holding things up. “Hearing from a shadow about some world-famous artist named Madarame and then being _personally invited_ to world-famous artist Madarame’s art exhibit seems like something worth following up on, you know?”

Ryuji sighed as Ann gently pushed him forward, and he raised a hand to ruffle through his hair as he replied. “ _Ugh_. You both… I know. I do. But that’s not my effin’ point! Or, I guess I don’t really know what my point is. But you know, I’m getting’ a bunch of mixed signals here. Like if this is s’posed to be an investigation then why’s Akira tryin’ to be so casual about the whole thing? He even went outta his way to invite someone who’s suspicious of us!”

“Are you jealous, Ryuji?” Akira replied, full to the brim with fake surprise and smiling playful as ever, even as he felt his chest tighten at the direction their conversation had taken.

“I’m not!” Ryuji started, but the not-quite glare he received from Ann forced him to quiet down before he pulled any more attention. “I get that you’re horny ‘bout everyone or whatever, but there’s gotta be a line somewhere, n’ I’d think feelin’ that way about someone who’s been followin’ us for days _and_ someone who might be involved with a potential target would be way past that line!”

Akira’s smile didn’t falter for an instant.

“…I was actually wondering about that too, Akira. You said Niijima wasn’t coming, but you’re not acting reckless over a crush, are you?” Came Ann’s quiet addition.

Morgana stirred his nest. A silent agreement.

The line had moved forward enough that they were finally inside, Akira noted. And after taking the time to put away their umbrellas; to regroup and find some quiet corner of the foyer to talk, he answered. His smile was gone. “I promise I’m taking our work seriously, if that’s what you’re both worried about. My feelings about Yusuke and…” He sighed deep before continuing. While pieces of the guilt that surrounded him over his situation had cracked and fallen away in recent days, Akira was still convinced that he had no right to say her name. He had promised to come back he and failed spectacularly – and he had absolutely no way to atone for that mistake. So he stuck to nicknames; to half names, and little impersonal titles in order to allow himself to drift as close as possible without ever brushing against the thing that he wanted most. “My feelings about Yusuke …and her… are completely separate from anything we do in the Metaverse.”

He looked off to the gallery, struggling to decide how much was safe to reveal. He _wanted_ to be open about everything, but… would they believe him? Would they think it was a joke, or would they worry about him? Truthfully, how much did he really know about his situation? His minor little changes didn’t seem to have any adverse effects, but there might be conditions to existing here, he might die all over again if he did something wrong and he had no way of knowing if telling them everything might be the trigger. He still had no idea what had caused their plan to fail in the first place. That whole day was still clouded and foggy, as unclear as ever in his mind.

“…She saw that entire scene yesterday. Whatever you want to call the whole _thing_ with Yusuke.” He finally revealed, shifting weight on his feet and twirling strands of his hair between fingertips to punctuate the point. And he felt guiltier and guiltier with every word that left his lips over being unable to work up the courage to tell the whole truth. “She started following us when we hopped on the train. Inviting her seemed like the perfect way to prove that we’re not up to anything. She would only see it as a date, and we would still be able to gather information.”

_Never mind that I was honestly hoping to spend time with her._

Ann and Ryuji looked ready to say more, but both pairs of eyes shot just behind Akira and whatever replies they had prepared were silenced in an instant. He turned and was met with the sight of a familiar artist, dressed in his very fanciest blazer and jeans combo for the event, making his way across the room.

Akira sighed once again – though, whether in frustration or relief wasn’t clear.

“My apologies if I’ve interrupted something.” Yusuke began. “But I’m glad to see you all here.”

Akira smiled then, equal parts fake and genuine – he was happy to see Yusuke, but this was hardly the sort of conversation to leave hanging and unfinished. They were owed an explanation sooner than later.

“It’s fine, we can finish talking about it some other time. Thank you again for the tickets.” He replied softly.

~~~

“I hope it wasn’t too much trouble to make it inside, I hear the weather has been getting worse fairly steadily since the morning.” Yusuke watched the group with a calm expression as he spoke, but Akira easily noted every little detail that gave away how truly happy he was. Yusuke looked nice when he was happy.

“No, it was no problem at all!” Ann chimed in, dragging Ryuji along with her – she granted him a stern look when he started to drift away – and she let her hand settle on the small of Akira’s back.

_Later. I can clear things up later._

Yusuke smiled at that, turning back to Akira as realization dawned on his features. “Ah, by the way, where is your other date? You seemed very excited about surprising them with the tickets.”

Akira’s smile faltered for a moment, and he could feel Ann’s fingers tense in their place against his waist. _I have to clear things up later_.

“She had other plans, it turns out.” He said, voice velvet and soft and betraying none of the whiplash of emotions he was going through. “My fault for asking on such short notice, I suppose.”

“Oh.” Yusuke murmured. His voice sank, evidently saddened at the loss of whatever meeting might have been. Still, he recovered quick and continued on with a smile full of so much childish innocence. “Well! Hopefully that doesn’t lessen your enjoyment too much today, I still look forward to showing you all around. I’d like to discuss the painting I have in mind in further detail as well.”

Yusuke’s gaze settled on Ryuji, who had drifted further and further away from the bubble of conversation with every second it went on.

He jolted back to Akira’s side the second he realized Yusuke was attempting to include him. “Wait, me too?”

“Of course!” Yusuke said without missing a beat. That infectious enthusiasm twined into his voice with every word. “Recently, I have come to appreciate the input of those that exist entirely outside the realm of fine arts – and though it wasn’t my intent to include all three of you in this project when I first chased after Miss Takamaki, I believe the final result would be much better with your involvement. The three of you together give off an air – an emotion unlike any I have ever felt, and I would be honored for the opportunity to capture that beauty on my canvas.”

Ann stared in shocked silence; her jaw fell slack, and Akira could feel her grasping at the fabric of his jacket.

“I… Huh.” Ryuji mumbled.

Neither of them had expected that answer, it seemed. Though, Akira thought, neither of them had spent time with Yusuke yet. So he offered them both a grounding force. He caught Yusuke’s matching silver eyes with his own and watched as the artist lit up with an even stronger expression of pure joy. It was as if this opportunity; this meeting, being able to speak with all of them was the most important thing in his world. Akira smiled, an overwhelming lightness spreading through every bit of him as the sight reaffirmed that maybe, just maybe, spending time together was enough. And he replied. “If it’s okay, I’d like to look around on my own first. But I’ll find you all in a bit. You’ll have us all to yourself after that, Yusuke.”

“Wonderful!”

Akira saw his friends off, promising that they would be safe with Yusuke even through Ryuji’s confused attempt at a scowl. He knew Yusuke recognized them on that same deep, unreachable level as the one that led Ann and Ryuji to recognize him. The one that let him grow so close with them in such a short amount of time. They needed time to adjust, Akira supposed, to grow into that feeling in an environment where he wasn’t there to point the spotlight directly onto himself. So he wandered through halls and crowds, taking in whatever paintings weren’t being swarmed by other visitors. He glided around behind crowds to catch glimpses of some, and took his time to fully absorb every minor detail of others. His little adventure took him through so many places full of so many paintings that he remembered from small corners of Madarame’s Palace.

Then he arrived back in the main room. One piece in the far corner held him completely entranced.

A mountain stood as the focus, framed by a distant forest and surrounded on all sides by an absolutely stunning sunset, playing off of the clouds in so many reds and purples, oranges and blues and creating a feeling that Akira could only describe as _hope_. Only, that feeling was trapped in the distance; further than the tallest trees, further than the largest mountain and hidden away behind so many lakes and fields, obscured by a wall of leaves and trees that seemed to hold the viewer in place with almost venomous force. It was a feeling of optimism completely out of reach and choked out by frustration and fear.

Every little detail reminded him of Yusuke.

He could sense his friends gathering behind him as he stood, even if their words came too distant and muffled to parse. Ryuji sounded excited, while Ann sounded curious.

Yusuke was… Hm?

Akira chanced a look to his side. The artist stood less than a step away, staring intently at the same painting so that Akira could only view him in profile. Whatever he thought in that moment was a mystery. But then he turned, and they met each other’s eyes, and Akira swore he could almost feel himself being swallowed up by the liquid fire in his gaze. Only then Yusuke blinked. And the feeling between them was gone, replaced by something far softer.

“Pardon me for being so straightforward, but it truly feels as if we’ve met before. Perhaps in some previous life…?” Yusuke asked abruptly.

Ryuji and Ann hesitantly moved to agree that they shared the feeling, only Akira didn’t hear a word of it because suddenly he was wearing a more genuine smile than he had even once in this new year. It wasn’t flirty or embarrassed, or teasing or regretful. He was like a ray of light, laughing quietly to himself and failing to hide his beaming behind a palm.

When he had calmed enough to reply, though still not enough to will his smile away, Akira looked to his friends – to Ryui, to Ann, and finally to Yusuke.

“You,” He started, and a stray laugh bubbled up and turned one syllable into several. “You – yes. I feel that way too. About all of you.”

Yusuke reacted as soon as Akira finished. He seemed to fumble to find the right words as he spoke… was he embarrassed? “Ah, I apologize. I’ve been meaning to work on how candid I can be at times… Here, I’ve taken up enough of your time today.” He reached into a pocket and pulled out his phone. “My contact info. Whenever you all have time to assist with my next project, please let me know. I will endeavor to avoid being a burden in the coming days.”

~~~

“Ryuji!” Akira snapped, taking off at a sprint toward the two falling bodies.

They appeared in a burst of light and shadow somewhere near the impossibly high ceiling of Madarame’s Palace, and Ann’s screeching split the anxious quiet like a gunshot as they fell.

She landed in Akira’s arms with an unceremonious _thud_.

He waited in silence for her to regain her bearings. She was breathing hard and fast and seemed thoroughly unaware of where she was. When she finally realized, finally recovered enough to take in her friend’s face, Ann’s cheeks reddened in a desperate attempt to match the exact shade her Metaverse costume.

“Come here often?” Akira interrupted, mischief lacing its way through his smirk.

Over the course of the next seconds, Ann’s face shot through an even deeper embarrassment, confusion, and then straight to a level of relief and joy that pulled a guffaw from the deepest parts of her chest. “You dork. Lemme down.”

Akira obeyed and lowered her; enough that she could regain her footing, even if her breath was another matter.

“Oh! Kitagawa!” She gasped as she slid away from Akira’s arms, making sure to linger against his fingers as she turned to search.

Behind them lay Yusuke, collapsed in Ryuji’s arms, the both of them sprawled out across the tile floor and with Morgana laid even more unceremoniously on top of the pile. A groan worked its way from Ryuji’s throat, the other two followed shortly after. They were fine.

Akira closed the distance and knelt down to coax his friends through their recovery. Slender fingers ran trails along Ryuji’s back, and Ann took her place at their side as they all watched and waited for Yusuke to speak. For a time, after breath returned to him and he was steady enough to take in his surroundings, Yusuke said nothing. He shifted in place, coming to sit and to rest his arms at his sides. He stared intently at the people surrounding him, no longer Akira and Ryuji, Ann and Morgana, but strangers in strange outfits. He looked around and absorbed the horrible world surrounding them; gold infused tree branches shedding gold plated leaves, moving paintings full of much the same. Gilded feathers and landscapes and gold upon gold upon gold.

A storm of emotions seemed to be brewing in his mind.

And then his eyes shot to Akira with an almost knowing curiosity. “Where am I?”

Akira was hesitant to answer, and for a time only returned Yusuke’s gaze. He took a single long breath. “This is the inside of Madarame’s heart.”

“I see.” Yusuke wasted no such time in replying. “Then that would make the three of you…”

With a hesitant grin, Akira tilted up his mask.

Shock spread across Yusuke’s face for only a moment, and then he smiled a small wry smile. “I suppose that explains why the two of you were absent from our painting today. I’m glad to see you both.” He looked from Akira to Ryuji, then up to Ann. And he would have continued speaking, only, he seemed suddenly aware of Morgana, and the sight of a strange mascot-like cat with a head at least twice as large as its body seemed to knock him off target and mesmerize him all at once. He furrowed his brow. “Hm. I don’t think I remember you though.”

The cat jumped to his feet and puffed out his chest in a triumphant pose – as well as it could be puffed given the size of his body, at least. “I’m Morgana! The captain of these three chuckleheads!”

“I thought Joker was s’posed to be the leader. We all agreed on it n’ everything.” Ryuji mumbled.

Morgana whipped around. “Th… the captain doesn’t need to be the leader!”

And as the scene played out; as they argued back and forth with the others as their audience, Akira moved his fingers from their place at the small of Ryuji’s back to the crook of his neck. He pressed his forehead to the side of Ryuji’s temple and whispered as softly as he could to _breathe._

And he did. And they both apologized. And their little argument came to a sudden end.

Yusuke seized his opportunity to ask another question. “I apologize for interrupting, but when you say that this is ‘Madarame’s heart’, what exactly do you mean?”

“This might be hard to believe,” Morgana crowed, striking yet another pose. “But we’re in a sort of alternate reality. A cognitive world, where Madarame’s true desires and thoughts rule everything.”

“…I see.” Yusuke nearly whispered, deep in thought. “I suppose I have no choice but to believe you.”

Morgana blurted in confusion. “Wait, really? I wasn’t even finished!”

“Yeah man, I dunno if anyone minds explaining a little more or nothin’ if you need it.” Ryuji added.

Yusuke nodded gently and raised his head. “As strange as it may sound… I have long suspected this to be the truth of things.” The words came out calm. Relieved, even. He leaned back further, letting his hands slide along the tile flooring, and he looked to the scenery once more. A lone tree branch caught his attention, pulsing with light and covered in paint that swam lazily from place to place. “It is… comforting to hear that my worries were not misplaced. I suppose at first, I simply chose not to believe – buried those concerns somewhere they would never bother me. But after meeting you all, a strange, indescribable emotion has pierced me to my core. It tells me you are important people – people I should cherish, just as strongly as it tells me to trust my instincts and my suspicions regarding my teacher.”

Akira stood. He offered his hand to Yusuke with a tilt of his head and the beginnings of a smile. “In that case, can you walk?”

~~~

Yusuke managed impressively well. The makeshift tour through the museum as they worked toward the exit only seemed to strengthen his resolve. The endless halls and gallery rooms full of paintings depicting Madarame’s many pupils left him silent, leaving only the determination in his eyes left to communicate in his place.

They reemerged into a room full to the brim with swirling, dancing, golden paint and soot black ink that lined every detail in sight.

Madarame tried to trap them.

Yusuke said his piece.

Then he stopped. Yusuke clutched at his head, writhing in pain. He stumbled and staggered and tripped until he fell to his knees. A powerful energy began to build around him, coiling up and growing more intense and all-consuming with every second that passed. The lights flickered. The living paint dancing along the walls seemed almost drawn to him. A single hand lunged forward to claw at the flooring, and he tore into it with such force that the skin of his fingertips was scraped clean through. The energy was nearly palpable as it wound itself tighter and tenser with every passing second until the only thing left was Yusuke slowly crawling to his feet and letting a shout rip from the depths of his throat as he wrenched and tore at the mask that had forced itself onto his face in a whirlwind of blue flames.

And then it all burst.

The attempted ambush was erased in an instant, every shadow wiped away with a flourish of Yusuke’s hands and the strength of his Persona.

Several steps back, Akira smiled that radiant smile and whispered in a voice so small that no one could hear.

“I missed you, Yusuke.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I screwed up posting this chapter in a good handful of ways I hadn't expected one after the other, but I think it finally worked! Whoops!!!

Akira slinked down the stairs with a yawn, slipping his bag over his shoulder as he went. He slept well last night; he had been sleeping well for weeks, but somewhere along the way the relative ease of things sent his mind straight back to worrying. The dark circles under his eyes were back, and Ryuji was starting to express his concern again. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the others. About _her_. Tiny inklings of plans were finally beginning to form. He could do this.

Today though, no matter how much his brain argued otherwise, he knew none of that mattered. Today was for Yusuke.

“Kid, come here.” Sojiro offered just as Akira entered the cafe proper. A full breakfast was spread out on the bar in front of him. “I want to talk.”

Akira silently quirked an eyebrow as he took his seat, and Morgana popped out of his nest to mimic his confusion.

Sojiro chuckled. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. I just wanted to let you know I’m proud of how well you’ve behaved since arriving.”

He folded his arms and leaned back against the small gap of wall separating the shelves of coffee from the kitchen. He watched Akira with a grin, and seemed content to leave things at that. So Akira started eating. Only, as soon as he did, Sojiro continued.

“I really didn’t expect much out of you when you first got here… but look at you now. You’ve made some fantastic friends. The ladies love you according to that Ann girl and the other kid,” Sojiro’s smile grew to a smirk, and Akira found himself unable to do anything but laugh softly in response. “And from how they talk whenever the three of you are here, you’re well on your way to getting yourself a girlfriend.”

Another small laugh escaped Akira, then. His mind started to drift.

_She was staring again. There was no way she thought she was going unnoticed… But maybe that was the point? Akira wrapped back around the counter after serving the elderly couple in the far booth. Their favorite booth, he had come to learn. They… they liked to poke fun about how much happier he was on days when Makoto was around. “Not that you’re gloomy the rest of the time! She just seems to bring a whole lot of sunshine out of you.” they would say, and he would laugh, and they would laugh, and everything was just a bit cheerier on those days._

_She was staring again, as they worked their way through her sister’s palace. The end was drawing close. So he let her take every opportunity to burn the image of him into her mind that day, just as she had done with the feeling of him the night before. Because he might never be coming back._

_She was staring again. Though, this wasn’t ‘again’ anymore; this time she was staring, and her eyes were asking if maybe they knew each other? If they had ever met before? If it wasn’t too much to ask that he let her stare until she could unravel this mystery? Would he do her the courtesy of telling her the reason for all these strange emotions? The ones that she was having such a painfully hard time swallowing down? Could he tell her, possibly, if he was ever important to her?_

He lifted his head.

“You should bring her around when I’m actually _here_ some time.” Continued Sojiro, dipping into that wistful ‘when _I_ was your age’ tone of voice he loved to find excuses to use. “She should hear what kind of troublemaker she’s getting involved with.”

Akira couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore.

~~~

Akira left shortly after that. He pulled out his phone during the short walk to the station and texted Yusuke about possibly spending time together while he gathered supplies for their final infiltration. Yusuke said yes. He was already ready and waiting on the platform before Akira had even stepped off the train.

The sight kept his smile going strong.

They took off toward Shibuya together, accompanied by the sounds of Morgana lording his experience over Yusuke and answering every question about the Metaverse that he could – asked or otherwise. Yusuke seemed to enjoy the noise. Akira was mostly oblivious, and even managed to slip some small talk between the cracks in Morgana’s wall of knowledge along the way. Little nothing comments and questions about the weather or the scenery or how Yusuke was holding up.

The weather was nice, the scenery was comfortably familiar, and Yusuke would be doing better once Madarame’s heart had been changed. But he was still glad for the time alone together – as alone as they could be with Morgana anyway.

“We’re here.” Akira gestured to their first stop, admiring Yusuke as his eyes danced from the giant neon ‘Untouchable’ sign to the contents of the caged display cases to the scattered signs plastered along the door. He eventually moved to framing parts of the alley between his fingers, no longer interested in their actual reason for being there.

“Would it be too much trouble if I remained outside?” Yusuke finally questioned, pulling a sketchbook out of his bag. “I have never seen this side of the city, and I would very much like to record some of it while we’re here.”

Akira replied with a quiet chuckle. _Well, at least he’s happy._ “Sure. I’ll be out in a bit, have fun.”

Yusuke nodded, brow furrowed and pencil already hard at work before he even moved to sit. Morgana remained outside, apparently interested in watching Yusuke create.

The shop owner, Iwai, grunted in greeting as Akira walked into the shop. He was sitting with legs crossed and feet thrown up on the counter, paying no more than the bare minimum required attention to anything outside of his magazine. Akira found what he needed with relative ease – a new pistol for himself and several protective accessories for the others. He almost thought he might finish his visit without having been graced by a single word of snark, but then he stepped up to the counter.

“Th’ weird one outside one of yours?”

Akira pulled out the money to pay and glanced out of the door; Yusuke was standing nearby, intently studying some corner of the alley with a far-too-grave look on his face and holding a conversation with Morgana – who was currently perched on his shoulder like some sort of judgmental gargoyle – every time he returned to drawing. “Yeah.” He replied, breaking into a smile yet again. “Yeah he’s my company for the day while I’m running errands.”

Iwai gave a questioning look as he returned all of Akira’s purchases in a stiff paper bag. He settled for making a noise that sounded like he was attempting to become the personification of _gruff_ and then fell silent until Akira was halfway out the door. “…You got a weird taste in dates, kid.”

Akira thought vaguely that he should be careful before all of his smiles brought on some unfortunate twist of luck.

Finally back outside, he learned that the ongoing conversation had morphed into a fierce debate over whether Yusuke had truly angled a sign correctly in his sketch. He only felt a _little_ rude for interrupting them to announce they needed to head back to Yongen. The weapons needed to be stashed somewhere safer, since their final venture into Madarame’s Palace wasn’t until that evening, and they needed finish their shopping for the morning while they were back in the area. Morgana returned to his place in the bag, and the three of them fell into easy chatter on the walk back to the subway station. Akira was glad beyond words to see Yusuke so at ease. so glad, in fact, that the sight lifted a weight from his chest that he hadn’t even realized was there. One of his many invisible worries that had been hovering around for so long he had simply forgotten about it.

It was only when they were safely on their train, sitting far enough back that no other passengers would hear, that Yusuke’s expression dropped to something much darker.

“I am not positive, but I believe someone was following us in Shibuya. There was a presence hovering around the entrance to that alleyway during your entire visit. They do not seem to have joined us for this ride, however.” He murmured, leaning close to Akira.

Morgana chimed in. “Yeah. I definitely felt like we were being watched, too.”

“…Did either of you catch a look?” Akira asked. Though, he already had an idea of who it must have been. It was about that time, after all. “Could you describe them?”

“N…no. I just _felt_ them looking. I was too busy trying to explain perspective to _this guy_.” Morgana popped a paw out of his nest and waved it around as he continued, and Akira pushed it back inside without missing a beat.

There was a pause before Yusuke answered, as he dug through his own bag in search of his sketchbook. “I did. I can. I drew a portrait from memory during our walk back.”

He carefully flipped through several pages before handing the book over.

The first thing Akira noticed was that Yusuke _really_ was an incredible artist. He had almost forgotten that his talent extended beyond just painting. And then his eyes drifted to the familiar hairstyle – a chin length bob cut – and to the turtleneck the subject wore under her jacket. He stared at that ridiculous braided headband she insisted on wearing every day. The one that he, truthfully, loved more than he cared to admit. It was one of the rare cute sides to her that she had the courage to show in public.

Her eyes held as much fire on paper as they did in life.

It was a good sketch.

Morgana let out a sharp whisper. “It’s her!”

“She...” Akira found himself breaking into yet another smile. This one far more rueful than the others. “We’re… We _were_ , very close.” He fell silent for a long moment and handed back the sketchbook. “But she’s been very interested in the Phantom Thieves lately.”

Yusuke replied slowly, seemingly debating whether he was truly satisfied with that answer. “She looked rather conflicted. I assumed it was because we were spending time in a less than reputable looking alley and she simply did not wish to venture closer, but… if you were close, as you say, maybe it was because she had no desire to learn the truth?”

“I could see that!” Morgana blurted, and half jumped out from the bag again before Akira flicked him on the nose and forced him to at least _try_ to stay hidden. “…From what she said on the roof, it sounds like she doesn’t even want to be investigating us in the first place.”

“But that might mean someone’s forcing her. She might not have a choice other than to give it her all.” Akira prodded.

“Y…yeah…”

“And… She’s not the type to do anything halfway. Trust me.”

Yusuke glanced down at his drawing. He looked back to Akira. The expression on his face pierced all the way through; it was an old look, one that made him seem far older, far wiser than he had any business being.

“Were you two lovers, perhaps?” Yusuke questioned.

Morgana again burst halfway out of his bag. “No! Nooo way! They were just study partners! Right?”

This time, Akira didn’t stop him.

“… _Perhaps._ ” He held Yusuke’s stare. “That really is an incredible portrait, Yusuke.”

Morgana sounded somehow betrayed.

Yusuke grinned, the look in his eyes knowing and sympathetic as Akira turned to the window.

They sat in silence for the remainder of the trip.

~~~

The visit to their next stop, a small hole-in-the-wall clinic, was more of the same; Akira took care of everything on his own while Morgana snuck away to the attic of Leblanc to store their tools. Yusuke took the opportunity to again absorb the scenery in his never-ending search for inspiration. When Akira was finished buying the necessary medicine, he found the two once again gathered together and talking about Yusuke’s sketches. They were sitting against a wall, huddled together near the secondhand store just opposite Leblanc, in one of the only remaining shadows as the sun neared its height.

“That was everything we needed.” Akira couldn’t quite help but feel guilty for interrupting this time. They looked so peaceful. “If you want, we can get the calling cards printed up now. But… we could also get some coffee as long as we’re here. Enjoy ourselves for a bit.”

Morgana bristled from his seat on Yusuke’s shoulder. He jolted up and tried to make himself as tall as possible. “You… Why’d you ask me to stash your stuff upstairs if you were just gonna head there anyway?”

“I admit, I _am_ interested in seeing where you live…” Followed Yusuke, seemingly oblivious to the outburst taking place less than inches away from his ear.

Akira kneeled down, joining them in the shadows and placing a hand on Morgana’s head. He met Yusuke’s eyes before continuing. “Then why don’t we head over – ”

A familiar bell rang out just down the road, trapping the words on his tongue. There weren’t normally customers visiting Leblanc so early in the day, much less ones that were ready to leave. As far as he remembered, Futaba’s visions weren’t so bad yet that Sojiro would need to abandon his work, either. _Maybe it’s just that pretentious guy back early today. He’s been around pretty often lately._

He pulled away to look, and found Makoto. She stood frozen just a few steps past the door, staring back at him.

_That’s new._

She whispered as he met her eyes. If he was anyone else, Akira might have sworn he heard ‘Aki’ pass her lips. But she hadn’t called him Aki since that day. So that couldn’t be it.

He tried to wipe the surprise from his face as he stood from his spot. She looked away and started to fidget with the edges of her sleeves as he moved, but made no effort to leave. It seemed she wanted to talk.

“What brings you here, Miss President?” He leaned forward to try and meet her eyes. “You could have texted me if you wanted to spend time together, you know.”

She flinched in response. Her face was still turned away.

_This might be bad._

One deep breath later, she replied. But something was off. Even if Akira couldn’t quite place what. “Kurusu… I – I was looking for you. I read your file to find out where you lived. I apologize.”

He chuckled. “It’s fine, I promise.”

“There were other details in there that I tried to skim over, but – ”

“Well. You’ve probably heard enough from the Shujin rumor mill, I don’t blame you for wanting to learn the truth.”

Another flinch. “I was hoping to surprise you, but I heard… from your guardian that you would be out all day.”

“Oh?” Akira said as lightly as he could manage. “Well I’m here now.”

“I – In Shibuya earlier too, I was looking for you...”

Something was definitely wrong. Her normal brand of nervous didn’t look like this. Even being frightened about his record wouldn’t lead to _this_.

_…Would it?_

_No. She’s stronger than that._

His brow furrowed. “Take your time, Miss Pres. I promise it’s okay.”

Yusuke’s footsteps could be heard in the distance. He came closer until he was standing a comfortable distance behind Akira. Presumably at Morgana’s insistence, because the cat hopped from one to the other and meowed in Makoto’s direction to make his presence known.

Makoto didn’t seem to notice or even care as she continued. Her voice was trembling. “I… I was hoping to – ” She sighed. Whatever she was trying to work through had shaken her on a level he hadn’t expected or prepared for in the slightest, and Akira’s heart nearly climbed into his throat at the sight. “I’d like to talk, just the two of us.”

“…Did something happen?”

“No! No. I just… Yes. Not – not really. I’m not sure how to talk about it, but I’d like to try.”

He looked into her eyes, then. Every bit of the love he held back in past months came shining through his own.

She stepped closer.

“I know I’m supposed to have you all under investigation, but I don’t… Things are strange between us, and I want to fix that.” She began, and she raised a thumb to press at her lower lip. She was barely a step away and staring intently at his chest. Staring past him. Whichever it was, she was no longer looking at him. “And truthfully, I don’t know _why_ I want to fix that. We barely know each other. I don’t know the first thing about you other than your name!” She brushed some imaginary strand of hair behind her ear. She laughed. A fake laugh, a poor attempt at shaking off some of her nerves. “…But there’s a nagging feeling in the back of my mind every time I look at you telling me that somehow, I _do_ know you… But it’s different… deeper than just feeling that we’ve met before and I – I don’t understand.”

Makoto met his eyes, a familiar determination and strength still shining through even as her voice shrank smaller and more fragile than Akira had ever heard before. “I can’t understand… and it’s starting to scare me.” She reached out toward him, trembling fingers inched closer and closer toward his cheek until he could practically feel the heat brushing his skin. She pulled away at the last second. “So, I do. Want to fix things. And I would rather we were alone… for that.”

_This is bad._

Akira continued watching her in silence.

“Okay. Okay. Today, uh.” He looked hesitantly back to Yusuke, brought a hand up to reassure Morgana. “…Today isn’t… the best time. But I promise we’ll figure this out soon.”

She nodded, looking away. As if she thought he would ever leave things at that; would ever leave his Queen alone when pain was written so clearly across her features.

_Never. Not even now, when you have no clue who I am. Especially not now._

“Hey.” Akira brought a hand to her arm and whispered; low and soft, in the way he always used to comfort whenever something had rattled her – never speaking down, never pitying, a tone of voice that reminded her she was allowed to get swept up by emotion – and he mirrored her earlier gesture, raised his other hand to cradle her cheek and held her with his eyes even as he risked drowning in the luminous ruby of hers. “I mean it. We _will_ figure this out.”

And somehow, that was enough. She leaned into his touch as he ran his thumb back and forth against her skin. And then she pulled away, and she nodded, and she left for the station.

He continued watching well after she was gone.

She didn’t look back.

Yusuke was the one to finally break his trance, he placed a gentle hand on Akira’s shoulder as he moved to stand beside him. “She called you ‘Aki’.”

“Mmm.”

_I wish I knew what that meant._

“…I wonder when she found time to enter the cafe. Perhaps she was on our train after all?”

“Hm.”

_I wish I knew what any of this meant._

“Do you suppose we have been found out? …No. No. There was a strange emotion in her eyes that I do not believe would accompany that discovery. I thought it might be fear initially, but… Ah. I’m rambling. Forgive me.”

“Mhm.”

_I wish I had an answer for you._

“…She looked,” Yusuke paused to wash the concern from his voice, and his grip on Akira’s shoulder tightened slightly before trailing down his arm. He was trying to be comforting. Akira appreciated that, at least. “She appeared far more startled just now than she did while we were in Shibuya. But I believe that she will be all right until you two can speak again. There is a great strength in her presence, trust in her.”

“Yeah…” Morgana quietly echoed the sentiment as he lowered himself back into his nest. “Whatever’s going on here, it just means we need to finish our work in Madarame’s Palace sooner. So we can figure this out together.”

Akira continued looking on in silence.

“Yusuke.” He still refused to turn away. “When you mentioned… at the art exhibit, earlier this month, that I felt familiar to you…”

There was a heavy pause as he tried to decide how to word the question.

_This is bad._

_I think I might have ruined everything. I_ s _houldn’t have gotten close this time, shouldn’t have done any of it, should have done everything exactly the same._

_Just like before._

Finally, he let go a shuddering breath. “When you mentioned I felt familiar, did any part of that realization scare you?”

Yusuke went quiet. Morgana as well.

“No. It was a very peaceful feeling. My heart felt lighter… It was as if a part of me was missing, and not only did I fail to realize it until we met, but you arrived to fill that space the moment I did.”

Akira didn’t answer. He continued staring toward the subway station in silence.

_…I screwed up._

~~~

The shadow of Madarame was speaking. His voice rang hollow with the tone of a man who had long since pretended to shed all emotions other than pride and pleasure. He was recounting the tale of how he murdered Yusuke’s mother.

Yusuke was silent as he listened. The story startled the others; enraged them, even. Akira remained unfazed, the only thing in his mind anymore was an overwhelming sensation of emptiness pulsating in and out of awareness. His head hung low, and he felt like less like himself than ever. More like some sort of spirit, controlling himself as a puppet. He stepped forward when Madarame finished his speech. He stepped again after Madarame transformed into a series of grotesque, living paintings.

He had seen this all before, it didn’t matter.

Akira moved. He moved before his addled mind could even criticize his lack of self-preservation. He danced like a man possessed; a far cry from how he behaved during even the encounter with Kamoshida. He unleashed a calculated barrage of magic at the painting of Madarame’s mouth, frying the strange protruding mustache to a crisp and using the newly exposed frame as leverage to climb higher before the entire thing faded to black mist. Something sharp grazed his chest as he leapt. It could wait until later. He flew up, burying his knife into the dead center of the nose, and only dimly remembered to avoid the attacks from his friends as he vaulted out of the way. A massive blow of gunfire and smoke hit the makeshift target his weapon had created. Only the eyes were left, and he perched upon one as the nose disappeared to nothing.

“This is impossible! I’m the great Madarame!” came a voice from nowhere, from everywhere, but Akira didn’t stop to listen for the rest.

He drove his blade into the eye below him and twisted, just as the final painting targeted him with a spell. The sensation hit him all at once; all of the energy evaporated from his body. His breaths were too shallow. A draining spell. He took a moment too long to remove his knife. The painting melted away, and he was falling. But he moved without thinking, he found the grip of his weapon at the last second and used the momentum of the drop to spin and cleave the final eye in two.

And then he was falling once again.

Below, Madarame’s shadow had forced itself back into existence, gathering every bit of the scattered clouds and sludge and slime together to regain his human form. Akira landed his knees square on Madarame’s shoulders and pinned him to the ground, knife to his throat.

“Don’t… don’t kill me!” He squealed, and Akira might have pressed the blade even closer in response.

It was only after he began to stand, after Yusuke had said what he needed to say and after Madarame disappeared, that Akira pressed a hand to his chest. He stared at his fingers.

One of the others had joked, before, that his gloves were the color of blood. Looking at them in that moment, dripping and stained, the thought crossed his mind they looked far too bright, too vivid, for that comparison. Bloodstained hands would at least hide his faults in battle. These gloves wouldn’t hide today’s mistake. They wouldn’t hide his mistake with Makoto. They wouldn’t hide anything. He didn’t have that luxury.

“Akira, you’re hurt!” Ann exclaimed, after he turned and inadvertently placed his injury on display.

“On it!” Morgana moved reflexively to heal whatever might have happened, before even asking for details. The cut along Akira’s body mended itself closed and his outfit sewed itself back together. He watched as the blood faded from the tips of his fingers, and pressed them yet again to the scar.

His mind drifted back to each of the injuries he had sustained previously; some deep; some shallow, others almost faded to nothing, and still more white and tender, newly gotten and yet to fully heal.

_There are some things healing spells can never cure._

He remembered whispering the words to Makoto on their first night together. She was so worried for him, as she held his face in his hands and pinned him in place with the most biting look of distress he had ever seen. Even through his promises that his injuries looked worse than they were. Even though she already had so many of her own.

Not a single one followed him beyond that interrogation room.

Something deep inside reminded him that he should be grateful for that.

The others were talking, wondering what even had the chance to hurt him. He missed most of the conversation, and then the palace was collapsing and there was no time to hear the rest.

“Man,” Ryuji sighed, once they were safely returned to reality. “I didn’t think anything could hurt our fearless leader. That’s gotta be the first time anything’s even touched you in there!”

He replied, lighthearted, though what words he used were forgotten almost immediately. The others let out noises he recognized as exhausted laughter, and the rest of their interactions faded to the distance. His head swam through so many memories and long past plans as they conversed that by the time everyone was gone he barely registered that his body had been carrying itself home, placing one foot in front of the other with a mind of its own. Akira followed himself every step of the way until he stood in front of a familiar glass door. The sun had long set, and the alley was eerily quiet. Not even the birds were singing.

A noise startled him out of his daze. Morgana. “… have to go inside, Akira. You can’t stand out here all night.”

“Hm?” He whispered, “Oh. Right.”

His key wasn’t in its usual pocket. Or maybe it was, and he was so tired that he simply misremembered. He fumbled with opening the door.

After stepping inside and triple checking that everything was locked, he spotted a note posted to the television.

_Your girl stopped by._

_She was near crying when she left._

_You better have a good answer tomorrow._

Akira sighed.

“…Morgana.” He reached for the note. “I need your opinion on something.”


	6. Chapter 6

Makoto was panicking. There was no way Akira saw her, she was hidden in a group of passengers after all.

But then… he almost did, earlier in Shibuya. And Makoto nearly dove into a nearby crowd when she realized he was coming her way. He hadn’t noticed though. Not then and not now. He was distracted by that artist, or stalker, or whichever it was. The two were passing a sketchbook back and forth and talking about… something. They seemed close.

Something about that was comforting.

_Focus, Makoto._

“Right.” She mumbled to herself. “…Right.”

For weeks, she had been trying to tail Akira to find evidence for her investigation _._ To know whether he was truly a Phantom Thief. She really, _really_ tried. But he never seemed to do anything suspicious, no matter how many times she went through with it; the strangest thing Makoto had seen so far was something she wasn’t sure even qualified as strange. He had a talent for losing her. They all did. On certain days, she would be watching him spend time with friends in the hopes they might finally slip up, and then they would turn a corner and completely vanish.

But that was her own fault. She announced everything to them that day on the roof, it only made sense that they would keep an eye out.

And today… today, she truly had wanted to try following Akira again. But she saw him go into that shop in Shibuya – a shop she never even knew was there – and a strange vision washed over her. A peek into some other life, some other world; it was like a daydream, only, it was far too vivid to be so easily explained away. She remembered being in that shop with Akira. She remembered trying out different model revolvers while he watched on in silence. She remembered glancing up when the feeling of his stare became too much to deal with, and he looked… Proud. Satisfied. There was a fire behind his eyes threatening to spill over right then and there for everyone to see. So many different things that made her heart flutter into her throat.

She remembered, but she had never been there before.

Everything was fine, everything was _normal_ until she met him.

It was a slow change, at first only odd feelings and an odder longing to be by his side would float their way through her awareness. But then she confronted him and his friends on the roof. And she read his file and she saw something that she knows was more than just an inappropriate fantasy. It was _real_. The visions hadn’t stopped after that. They were coming more often and without warning. Clearer and more detailed with every new occurrence. Makoto couldn’t understand why. And the need to uncover the answer completely and totally overwhelmed the faint desire to catch Akira doing… something.

She needed to know what was happening to her. Even if she was too scared to confront him in Shibuya, she could try again. She _would_ try again.

The train arrived at its stop. Yongen-Jaya – Akira’s home for the year. She had his caretaker’s name and address, hopefully she could find him there. Hopefully he would be willing to talk.

Makoto waited for the others to pour their way out into the station before she stood. She wanted Akira and his friend to gain some distance before she left; being caught wouldn’t exactly make her goal harder, but she felt it right to be careful either way. Out somewhere else it was another matter entirely, but here, where he lived, it was better if this seemed at least at little like a normal visit.

She stepped outside and started toward her goal.

_The feeling of his lips dragging over her ear was far too much to deal with. So were his hands, one drawing little patterns against her thigh and the other cradling her face closer and closer. And his teeth on her ears. And his breath. And… She needed to focus. He needed to let her focus._

A wave of nausea washed over Makoto as she turned down the nearest backstreet, she stumbled, her head was swimming. The wall of a nearby house proved to be a welcome source of support as she tried to wait out whatever was happening. Whatever she was seeing.

_“Makoto,” he breathed against her skin. One kiss. Two. She barely held back a shudder. “Makoto.”_

_“Akira. Please,” She snapped, but every bit of harshness died on contact with the air surrounding them. The words only left her in a breathy moan. “I need to go over this plan again, because if we missed something, even the tiniest little detail… and you…” Makoto turned to meet his eyes, to cradle his face and make sure that he understood exactly how important this was. “I need to do this, Akira.”_

_His grip tightened around her. “Makoto. You’ve done enough. All we can do now is wait.”_

_She sighed._ _She was missing something. She knew she was, but… Akira was right. Even if they still couldn’t figure out what was missing, their final hours together would be better spent in happiness than fighting to discover some invisible failure or flaw. It was a good plan. That would have to be enough._

_“…I know.” Makoto traced a finger along the shape of his lips as she finally relented. She slid her palm against his cheek. She kissed him. Turned and buried herself in his arms, hoping against hope that nothing would go wrong. “I know. But I’m worried.”_

The nausea started to fade. Her balance returned. She continued down the alley, trying her hardest to act unbothered by everything she had just seen. None of the other visions… memories? Were these memories? None of them had ever seemed so clear in her mind before. She needed answers. Akira _had_ to have the answers. Because… because if he didn’t… No. She couldn’t bring herself to think about that possibility. She slowed her breathing and regained her footing and finally made it through. She found herself surrounded by old shops and rundown buildings, houses, and even a few scattered apartments. Everything seemed so comfortable and relaxing and, as always seemed to be the case with anything related to Akira – even though she never could seem to place why – familiar.

“Ahh, I see. Thank you, Morgana.” Mumbled a deep voice from behind a corner just ahead. She recognized the cat perched near the source and took off in the opposite direction as fast as she could.

Her sight began to swim once again.

_She didn’t want to pull apart. Didn’t want to let go. She wished the night would last forever. Akira was catching his breath beneath her and pawing for her arms and her shoulders, ineffectual little tugs and touches meant to pull her closer even though every inch of her was already draped on top of him, thoroughly exhausted from their earlier activities. Still, she leaned somehow closer, pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth and peppered him with hundreds of tiny little kisses all the way down his throat. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, and without even needing to ask, Akira sought out her hand, entwined their fingers and pressed a kiss to each of her knuckles._

_Her eyes burned._

_“…Let’s stay like this. Please.” He whispered into her hair. “I don’t want tonight to end.”_

_Makoto bit her lip. She could feel herself trembling and shaking, and then his breath hitched beneath her, and tears were spilling down her face, and before she could even process what happened she was muffling sobs against his chest. “Idiot.”_

_She tried to wrap more of herself around him. As much as she could; legs tangled together and strong arms pulled each other close, too close, until there was nothing else left. “You absolute idiot.”_

_He silently nuzzled against her._

Makoto slowly blinked herself back to consciousness. She at least managed to stay upright this time. She looked behind her; the voice that startled her turned out to be attached to that artist Akira arrived with. He and the cat were still engrossed in their drawing. She looked to the cafe at her side, eyes trailing across the arrangement of potted plants, each more well cared for than the last. She smelled the food and the drinks and felt the warmth of the entire place almost reaching out to urge her closer. And then she looked to the awning.

“Leblanc…”

She walked inside.

To call the place ‘retro’ would definitely be an understatement. Though, it felt less to Makoto like an intentional design choice and more like the owner picked the look when they opened years ago and then decided that’s just how things were going to be until the heat death of the universe. It brought a smile to her face. She needed that smile.

_Rough fingers ran along Makoto’s palm. The firm muscles of his chest slid against her back. The feeling pulled at both her voice and the dull ache between her legs._

_And they had just fallen asleep, too…_

_“Makoto…” The sound brushed along the shell of her ear._

_She couldn’t exactly fault him for it, though. The moon would only be with them for another few short hours. And after one final journey into the Metaverse he’d be gone. And she hated it so much._

_“…Aki.” She shifted in his embrace, letting the drag of his calloused hands and his arms against her body soak into every inch of her entire being. Their lips finally met._

_She couldn’t fault him for it. She was just as insatiable as him._

“Welcome! I’ll be out to get your order in a second.” Shouted a voice from the kitchen, accompanied by the clatters and clanks of pots and pans. Taking the chance to look around as she waited, Makoto found her eyes drawn to – not any decorations, not any of the sights or the smells – but a single booth in the center of the shop. She stared until the source of the voice was right at her side, waiting behind the counter.

“You’re a new one.” He murmured, stroking at his beard and looking down at her through glasses that sat far too low on his nose. “You a friend of the kid? You’re about his age.”

Makoto swallowed. She hadn’t exactly planned much of this out. _Any_ of it, really. Maybe being honest would be a good start.

“Um, hello.” She began, frustrated at the faint tremble in her voice as she struggled to hold a conversation against the visions, or memories, or dreams, or _whatever_ the right word was for the things she was seeing. “My name is Makoto Niijima, I – I was hoping to speak with a Sojiro Sakura about the student he’s currently housing – Akira Kurusu – would you know where I could find his home?”

“…I see.” His eyes darkened slightly. He sighed. “Well, you found me. The kid get into some kind of trouble?”

“N – no! No, he – I,” Makoto exhaled sharply.

And then Sojiro let out a soft chuckle. “Calm down. I figure by the look of you, you’re the girl those two blonde friends of his are always giving him crap over. Why don’t you take a seat? I’ll fix you a drink and you can ask me whatever you need.”

She blinked. A question tried to push its way forward, but Sojiro was already hard at work selecting beans and preparing her coffee. The words died on the tip of her tongue. Her feet carried her toward the booth that had held her attention for so long; she made sure to take a seat with a clear view of the stairs leading toward the attic, though she had no clue why. Or how she knew there was an attic.

_“Akira.” She buried her face against the bare skin of his shoulder. She couldn’t look him in the eyes. Not now. “Come back to me, okay?”_

_He slid down in the bed, pressed his forehead to hers. His smile was too much, and his eyes were too bright, and she just couldn’t do this right now. It wasn’t fair for him to be so confident._

_“I promise, Makoto. No matter what..”_

Heat was building behind Makoto’s eyes. She desperately tried to shake it away before someone noticed, and just barely succeeded as a cup of coffee was placed in front of her.

The smell nearly dug something else from the depths of her memories, but she pushed it away as soon as the feeling materialized. Because she understood at that moment that they _were_ memories. She was… _close_ to Akira. Maybe the closest person in the world to Akira; they were… they were _together_ , and they were working on some sort of plan, but so many details were still missing, so many things still made no sense. All she had was a handful of puzzle pieces to an image that no longer existed.

She could worry about what that meant when she was finally speaking with Akira.

“So, Miss Niijima. What were you hoping to talk about?”

Makoto wrapped her hands around her drink. She tried as hard as she could to find some sort of answer in its depths.

All she found was milk and sugar.

“Ah, honestly, I – I wanted to speak to Akira. But all I have is an address… and no clue how to get there.” She hoped he didn’t notice the shaking in her voice. It still hadn’t left. “I don’t know where he is or when he’s expected back. I was hoping you would have an answer. And… this was supposed to be a surprise, so I can’t exactly ask him about it.”

A far too understanding smirk flickered across the edges of Sojiro’s lips.

“Hm… Well unfortunately, he said he’d be out all day, so I can’t give you any sort of guess on when he’ll be back.” He was still smiling. “What I _can_ do though, is let you enjoy that coffee free of charge and promise to scold the kid for standing up such a cute girl the next time I see him.”

Makoto startled. “Y – you don’t have to do that! I’d be glad to pay.”

Sojiro only waved her to silence. “I’m not about to let one of his friends pay for anything around here. If you two are close, you’re family as far as I’m concerned.”

He was back behind the counter before she realized what happened. She sighed, looking back down at her drink.

_The papers fell scattered along the floor, but Makoto didn’t care. Her eyes were glued to her phone. Her breathing was unsteady. One shaky breath after the next. “…Hello?”_

Makoto smiled. A small whisper escaped under her breath. “…It tastes like the coffee Aki used to make for me.”

_She collapsed against the wall and clasped a hand over her mouth in disbelief._

That awful searing heat was back behind her eyes. This time, it refused to be brushed away so easily.

_“Futaba, please… he can’t… h – he promised me…”_

Makoto stood and thanked Sojiro for his time, for being so helpful, for the incredible drink, and anything that might distract him from her slowly building tears. And then she walked out of the restaurant as calmly as her legs could manage.

It was less than five steps before she skidded to a stop.

“Aki…”

~~~

None of the student council work was getting done. The sun was setting, everyone else had gone home, and she hadn’t even started. Makoto resigned herself to that reality. Whatever she saw the other day, whatever that was, it was the only thing on her mind lately. None of her other glimpses into that life had ever been so complete. And…

And she hadn’t seen anything since then.

_And Akira died._

More happened. _Much_ more. But Makoto refused to dedicate any thought to that while she was busy trying to focus on student council duties; what came after was the important detail. Whatever she heard on her phone, whoever she heard… She knew. She knew that Akira died to protect her. Even if she didn’t understand how that was possible. Even if he was still alive.

She exhaled in an entirely-too-loud groan and buried her face in her arms.

_I need to talk to him._

With another helpless whine Makoto gathered together her unfinished paperwork and shoved it all into her school bag as neatly as she could. Cooking dinner at home would be a welcome distraction before she returned to torturing herself over Akira and over her student council work.

One last glance around the room to ensure everything was in its proper place. It was. So she rose to leave. And just as she neared the exit, a familiar silhouette appeared in the window.

They knocked.

“Ak – ” The noise left her mouth unbidden as she pulled open the door. She cleared her throat. “Kurusu. Hello.”

He was close. So close that she could nearly feel how worried he was. _As if he has any reason to be, he’s not the one seeing things._

“Hey.” He whispered, so quietly that it barely even registered. “Is this a good time to talk? About… what happened the other day? The last time we saw each other?”

_Yes! Yes. Say yes._

Makoto opened her mouth to reply. But the words didn’t come. Thoughts started swarming around and choking out anything before it reached her tongue, what… what would she say? Did she even know how to even begin explaining everything to him? Should she just be open and honest about it all? What if… what if she was wrong, and these weren’t actually memories? What if something was seriously wrong with her? Would he believe any of it? Or think less of her? Or…

An exasperated noise left her, then. Something she could find time to be embarrassed about later. She collapsed forward and buried her face in his chest.

“No. I’m sorry, no.”

He was alive. No matter what she saw. No matter what he might think about what she might have said, Akira was alive. She could feel his heart beating, and she could feel the rise and fall of his chest, and he was real, and she could feel his warmth against her and she could reach up and touch him if she wanted and – and he was standing in front of her. He –

She could touch him like she did in those visions. Makoto swallowed hard, traced her fingers up his uniform. _I wonder if he would react the same way? If I –_

Akira tensed up, just barely choking out a question. “…Niijima?”

She silently gripped at his shoulders. Too tight, urging him to let her stay for at least a short moment longer. He almost seemed to melt at the touch, like he wanted nothing in the world more than to stay next to her… She knew he would. Makoto felt something about that realization should confuse her; something about Akira’s reaction should seem confusing, but their relationship had been nothing but confusing from that first evening in the library. So she decided she didn’t care. She decided she earned _one_ moment of silent intimacy. Maybe he knew about everything and he really _was_ just waiting for her to ask… Maybe he knew, and the longer she put this off the more she would be worrying him. Maybe he just wanted her to feel safe.

She _did_ feel safe, holding him so tightly… he was warm. Practically every part of him. He was exactly as warm as in those memories.

“I’m fine. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” Makoto finally pulled herself away, but her hands remained in their place. His eyes were that same stormy grey as ever, even as something close to amber danced and sparkled around the edges. They were _his_ eyes. The Akira from her memories. And he was worried, yes, but he seemed to understand that their embrace had helped. That she was doing far better than the other day. He seemed to understand more deeply than he should if they were strangers who had only spent a few short weeks studying together.

The relief in his eyes was the kind she would expect from _that_ Akira. It wasn’t her imagination. She knew that much, now.

Why was it so hard to know the rest?

“I have to hurry home.” She finally murmured. And her grip on his shoulders dropped lower. Down his biceps, down and along every muscle of his arms, and down even further until it settled at his wrists. She let him shift in her grasp. Waited patiently as he brought their hands together and twined his fingers with hers. “Soon. I promise I still want to talk about it… More than anything, I want to talk about it.”

His smile stole her breath away. He gently squeezed her hands.

“Okay. Okay, I understand. I’ll be here whenever you’re ready. I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”

She smiled back. Makoto smiled, and she leaned back against his chest.

And she felt him wriggle one hand free of hers, she felt his fingers lace through her hair. She nearly cooed at the touch; it felt exactly like she remembered and still so brand new. Rough and calloused and… and soft. Gentle. So, endlessly caring. They remained together in the door of the student council room; remained together in that utterly deserted hallway for what felt like an eternity and yet barely a second.

She peeled away the collar of his shirt without so much as a thought and pressed a kiss to the newly exposed skin.

~~~

Dinner was finished just as Sis arrived home. Makoto made curry. She wasn’t entirely sure why, just that it felt appropriate.

The two of them sat in silence. More and more of their evenings together had become stretches of absolutely nothing and no interaction. On any other evening it might have bothered Makoto to put so much effort in and be greeted with an increasingly aggressive silence, but today her mind was elsewhere.

She finished the work she brought home, and she did not think about the slowly growing rift between them.

She finished the work she brought home, and she did not think about Akira.

The reality of what happened at school only began to sink in after she moved to the couch to relax. A rerun of some interview with the teenage detective Goro Akechi was airing. They spoke with him about the Phantom Thieves.

Or, rather, they tried, but the moment they shifted to ask an audience member for an opinion, things became bizarrely intense. The camera never shifted away from the hosts, so she couldn’t quite tell why, but Makoto had the distinct impression that Akechi and the audience member knew each other. There was a split second where she noticed an almost mournful sparkle in his eyes. As if he felt guilty over something but knew he could no longer turn back. And yet… the two were happily toying with each other. Their voices were never anything but playful and innocent, and it was the strangest thing to watch what _must_ have been two complete strangers debating back and forth as if they were best friends. Reaching closer and closer to some scandalous secret but always careful to pull away at the last second, because if either was to be caught it would end their little game. Two predators circling one another, viewing the other only as prey.

Even the show’s hosts seemed unsure what to think.

They gave up on their back and forth eventually, and Makoto couldn’t help but feel incredibly confused about the entire interaction.

_The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. She couldn’t interrupt, though. Futaba would speak when she was ready._

_“…Makoto, he… Akechi…”_

And then her day caught up with her all at once.

_Akira._

They had almost, very nearly… not quite hugged. It wasn’t that much. But it felt like much more than that. And then she kissed him. Sort of. She – and Akira was okay with it. He even _encouraged_ it, staring back at her with a barely masked hunger in his eyes. Those little flecks of gold seemed somehow larger when she accepted his silent challenge. And… and if she was willing to accept that much, maybe it meant that they could continue their little dance of hesitant affection until something next door to normal developed between them… but Makoto was sure now. She was sure that Akira cared about her exactly as much as he did in those strange hallucinations. Just as she was sure that Akira knew something.

He had probably always known, and she was just too scared to see it. _Is he seeing the same visions as me? Has he been dealing with them from the very start? Is… did he have to live through…_

She shook her head. Tried to scare away that thought before it took hold any deeper. Akira wasn’t dead. He wasn’t going anywhere. He _promised_. So she would talk to him tomorrow.

Her phone was resting on the cushion next to her. Makoto pulled it close and started typing.

_“I want to talk. Tomorrow after school.”_

She nodded to herself, newly determined to solve the mystery of Akira Kurusu once and for all.

_No more excuses._

~~~

Akira looked to his left. He looked to his right.

The alley was empty, only spare splashes of light peeking in from the rivers of neon lining the street. They would be here soon.

Car doors slammed shut. Footsteps slowly moved closer.

“This is it, Morgana.” Akira rolled his shoulders. “Remember not to act unless it gets bad. I can take a few hits.”

_And I deserve more than a few for letting things get this far._

Morgana stared back, wearing the closest equivalent to defiance a cat could manage. “I still feel bad about this, Akira…”

“I know. But you know as well as I do there’s no other way. And I’m not about to let Miss Pres. get herself hurt over this.” The tone in Akira’s voice brushed just against something too solemn, too earnest for where they stood – some back alley in Shibuya near some hole in the wall bar owned by the yakuza.

“Mmgh.” Morgana finally relented. “And you promise to tell the others when we’re done?”

“Promise.”

“Fine. I’ll wait over here. Don’t let them kick your butt too hard, I don’t want to have to come to my best pupil’s rescue over one little fight.” He joked, but Akira could hear the worry buried underneath. Morgana was scared about all the ways this could possibly go wrong.

It wasn’t that Akira thought Morgana’s concern was misplaced. He would never dismiss his friend so easily, but he knew this would work. Like some sort of immutable fact of life, he knew it would work. Because it had to work. Because if it didn’t, he had no clue how to deal with Makoto’s condition. Would he simply show her the metaverse in some other, potentially more threatening context? What if something went wrong? What if he couldn’t protect her? No, if he was going to do this, if he was going to attempt to replicate her awakening, he would make sure that it happened as safely as possible. He would make sure there was no time limit, no threat of ruined lives or reputations, they would be in and out.

And… he could worry about her memories after that. If she was back in the group, back at his side, it would be far easier to make her feel comfortable. To give her an outlet for it all. If she was with them all again, maybe that sense of family would be enough to dampen whatever it was she was going through.

…Maybe she wouldn’t want to be with him in the same way she used to be.

And maybe that was okay. As long as she was safe – as long as they were all safe – Akira was more than willing to sacrifice such a large part of himself to ensure they could stay that way.

He died for her once already, giving up that much more was nothing.

“Oof!”

Akira bowled into a group of men rounding the corner. He stumbled back against the wall. The one he nearly knocked over was on him in a second.

“The hell, kid? Watch where you’re goin’!” He sneered. Overacted and trying too hard to look strong. He grabbed Akira by the collar and pinned him in place. Akira could dimly make out a pair of beady eyes boring into him from the back of the little group. They were scanning over every single detail.

Kaneshiro looked just as slimy as ever. Too much gel slicking back not enough hair. A pricey, poorly tailored suit and obviously fake gold jewelry. For how highly he viewed himself, he certainly didn’t know how to look the part. Most of his henchmen were better dressed.

“Hey.” Kaneshiro called, and everyone in his entourage turned to listen. “Be careful with him. He’s a kid, no need to ruin a perfectly good source of income. Just rough him up a bit, teach him to pay more attention to his surroundings.”

He left without a second glance, and Akira watched the others follow without question. He watched the one holding him throw a punch at the side of his head, and then he watched the rapidly approaching ground attempt to get in a hit of its own.

He didn’t watch much of anything after that.

“…You okay?” Morgana asked from the opposite wall, seemingly hesitant to come closer. Whether a few minutes or hours had passed, Akira wasn’t sure. It was still dark out.

Akira rolled onto his back and flopped an arm across his forehead. He flexed his fingers. He tested his jaw. He propped himself up so that he was at least sitting upright and leaned back with a deep sigh. That was enough being crumpled up in a pile and moping for the day. “Yeah. Seems like it.”

He dug his phone out of his pocket. “Come on, Morgana. Let’s go see if I got myself punched for nothing.”

“We should deal with that bruise when we get in there…”

“Mmm.” Akira replied. He stared at the screen. There was a text waiting.

_“I want to talk. Tomorrow after school.”_

He opened the Metaverse app, just barely hiding a grin.

_Yeah. No more excuses._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : ' )

Makoto dreamed that night, wrapped up to the nose in her bedsheets. She dreamed, buried in covers and blankets that would not, could not possibly smell like him, and tried with everything in her to remember. To find another entry in the parade of memories from her life together with Akira. This time however, there were no gaps filled in; no mysteries solved, or explanations offered by the sights that played out in her mind.

In her dream, she was laying in her bed, bathing in stray beams of morning light shining in through the windows.

In her dream, Akira held her close; laughing and teasing, kissing and effortlessly plucking the giggles from her tongue, as they laughed and spun and refused to let go of each other for even one second. She knows that she said something, but the words were muffled and distant. He only smiled and shook his head, and then his lips were at her throat.

And then everything swam around her. They were in his room, in his bed, and she was holding him. Giving back every bit as much as she took and relishing in the way she could make him writhe under her touch. She lost herself in the way it felt when he smiled into her skin or laughed against her lips. In the rumble of his voice and the way he looked at her – as if he was still in disbelief that she ever, for even one second thought to bless him with the reality that she loved him back.

But the dream shifted once again. And he was sitting alone at a table. Covered in blood, in the middle of a dark, empty room. There was evidence on every inch of the floor, on every part of every wall that he had been horribly tortured. The blood dripped from his head and it dripped from the rips in his uniform as he hunched over his own clasped hands and stared back into her eyes. It dripped as he tilted his head and smiled at her like nothing was wrong. It dripped and it dripped and it dripped as she reached for him, unable to call out, to shout, to scream, to reach him in even the smallest way as he drifted into the distance, leaving her forever. He was still wearing that innocent, childlike smile as he disappeared, fading away into the void of her dreams.

_“I promise, Makoto. No matter what...”_

She woke laying on her side, her heart threatening to beat out of her chest, one arm outstretched and tears streaming down her cheeks. The sun had yet to rise, and her alarm was hours from going off.

She prepared for her day in silence.

She went through her day in silence.

She waited just outside the door to Akira’s classroom in silence. And then, through the crowd of students pouring from the room, the two made eye contact.

Makoto smiled.

“Hey, you. Are you okay to talk now?” Akira greeted, waving off his friend – that Ann girl. She looked concerned, but the sight of his grin had Makoto’s heart doing somersaults in her chest, and she decided right then and there that she didn’t quite care enough to let that reaction bother her.

“Yes.” She nodded, and her smile spread even wider as she gestured to the nearby flight of stairs. “Shall we?”

Their walk through the crowds and the halls was quiet, but it was far from the feeling slowly eating away at her since the morning. This time, with Akira at her side, all of that was washed away. She felt happy. Anxious… even a little excited. The looks and the stares from the crowds of other students didn’t bother her for even a moment. She raised her chin a little as they moved, sniffed in pride, and she inched slightly closer to Akira when the whispers grew louder. It was strange, this feeling they shared. There was something deep, something meaningful pulling them closer and closer with every new interaction, but there still remained a bottomless chasm in the distance. And she didn’t have the first idea how to cross. Only that to do so would be something she could never turn away from.

Their fingers brushed together.

Neither made any attempt to move away. _If you want something to gossip about that badly, there you go._

When they reached the student council room, Makoto offered Akira a seat on the couch. He didn’t seem to notice at first, only glanced around the room with a small, wistful look on his face. His eyes drifted from the shelves lining the walls, to the spare desks stacked at the far end, over every little detail.

Makoto found herself wishing she could hear his thoughts. Wondering what sort of things he was thinking about. Whether she was a part of any of it.

Finally, Akira accepted, and he gently placed his bag down on the table before sitting and looking her way, watching. Waiting. His eyes were soft. He never seemed to be in any sort of hurry with her, and right then, in that moment, she appreciated that about him more than she knew what to do with.

That cat of his popped its head out of his bag. It looked almost apologetic as it stared, tilted its head. Makoto stepped forward, reached out and scratched at its ears.

_…How strange. Even you seem too familiar for words._

“So…” she started, moving to sit far closer to Akira than was necessary. And she lit up at the expression he wore. The same as he always did when she had something important to say. But it felt somehow different this time around. He cloaked himself in a strange sense of finality today. “I – I suppose being honest about everything is the way to go here… I’ve been acting on orders from Principal Kobayakawa to investigate you and your friends under suspicions that you might have something to do with the Phantom Thieves.”

Her smile grew, and she ducked her head. Let out a tiny breathy laugh before she continued. “You’ve seen how well that’s been going, though.” She met his eyes and absentmindedly leaned forward, placing a hand in the space between them. “At first things were easy enough. I followed you around and waited patiently for you to slip up. But somewhere along the way, whenever… whenever I tried to get close enough… whenever I tried to follow you, I would see things.”

Makoto pursed her lips as she intently studied Akira’s face. Both of their smiles had gone, but he seemed no less interested in hearing what she had to say, maybe even more interested than usual. She noticed that the tiny change in color his eyes had gone through yesterday was nowhere to be seen. A soft, welcoming grey was all that remained. _Did I only imagine it?_

“I’m honestly not quite sure how to describe it.” She tried, leaning forward so slightly that not even she noticed. “It… it’s almost like I’m seeing memories of time we’ve spent together. But that can’t possibly be the case, because these are visions of places I’ve never been and people I’ve never met. Conversations I’ve never had. Th – things that never happened. To me. To… to us… To you.” _Things I’ve never done. Things I want to do._

A suffocating silence spread between them as she waited for some sort of shift in his expression. Some sort of reaction she could grasp on to. But even through that quiet, she didn’t blush. She didn’t feel nervous that he wouldn’t believe her. She knew he would.

Akira broke away slowly and looked to his lap. He inhaled, mouthed words that almost looked like _“To me…”_

His voice was nearly trembling.

“…What exactly have you s – ”

She cut him off, and Akira looked back in an instant. Brow furrowed and eyes looking more than a little concerned.

“I have to ask you something, Akira.” She felt him shiver at the sound of his name. “I don’t care about the truth behind the incidents with Kamoshida and Madarame. This isn’t for the investigation, not for anything that might hurt you or your friends. This for me. I…”

Makoto bit her lower lip, but she did not look away.

“Hey. Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.” Akira offered, barely a whisper. “I promised, didn’t I?”

_“I promise, Makoto. No matter what...”_

They were so close together she could feel his every word brush against her. Something wonderful bubbled its way up from the depths of her heart, and she couldn’t quite help needing to look away in a futile attempt to hide her newest smile.

Even her traitorous voice betrayed how happy it made her to hear that promise reaffirmed. It was the same promise he had made countless times before, for any number of reasons big or small. But after all she had seen, it meant something else. It was the promise he made to her in another lifetime. A promise he made before going off to throw his life away. A promise he defied even death to fulfill. “…Yes. Yes you did.”

She took a deep breath and matched his gaze. _Now or never, Makoto._

“Are you one of the Phantom Thieves? Was…” The confidence she spent so long to build left her in an instant. Her voice faded to nothing as she continued, and her next words came so quiet, so faint, that she wasn’t sure anyone even heard her speak. “…Was I…?”

She watched Akira close his eyes and look away with an unsteady sigh, with something near to relief written across his face.

And then he slid his hand over hers. And she realized that even as he held her now, yesterday, in every single dream that she ever had of him, it was never a gesture meant to trap her or trick her. Never one meant to capture or claim her. His hands and his arms were only ever a reminder that he was _there_ and he was next to her. Always ready to listen. Always ready to help. She felt his desire to tell her the truth bleeding through the pads of his fingers.

“You’ll tell me, won’t you?” Makoto whispered.

And then Akira was smiling again, more genuine than before. And his eyes were an even more vibrant silver than she thought possible, more than she had ever seen – even in her memories.

“Do you remember, months ago when you asked me why I spent so much time with you?” He questioned, gently stroking his thumb along the back of her palm. “I want to ask you the same thing. Even if we’ve drifted apart since then.”

Makoto thought for a long moment. The question seemed to mean something so completely different today, coming from him; something more than it had when the words left her own lips so long ago.

_“I promise, Makoto. No matter what...”_

She pulled her hand from his and looked intently to her lap. Truthfully, Makoto _knew_ exactly why. She just didn’t _understand_. She wanted more than anything to take her place at his side. To reassure him with every fiber of her being that even if he left, even if their plan failed and everything was viciously torn apart at the seams, and even if everything was somehow returned to zero, Akira still returned to her. Just like he promised. She wanted to love him again. Even if she couldn’t put that feeling to words until today.

But she didn’t truly understand why she felt that way.

So she couldn’t admit that. As much as she wanted it, she couldn’t say those words to him because so many details were still just out of reach. He might know everything. He might know every single little detail about their time together in this life and their last. And he might also be in the same position as her; only grasping at fragments and piecing the rest together with the scattered remains of what few memories he had seen. Makoto couldn’t admit her feelings to him. Not yet. Not until she _knew_ beyond any doubt that this was the same Akira.

That she was the same Makoto. That her memories were really hers.

“I… because I know what I’m seeing is real. I don’t quite know how, or why, but I know that we were close.” She couldn’t explain her feelings, but she _could_ explain that much. “Because I know you’re a good person. No matter what happened or what the rumors say, I know that you’re better than anyone could ever imagine.”

Makoto turned back to face him. His expression was unreadable as he looked at her for a long moment.

“Okay,” He whispered finally, and it seemed as if a massive weight had fallen from his shoulders. “Okay, I – ”

A yowl ripped its way from Akira’s bag, and in an instant the fragile something surrounding them was destroyed. Makoto tried to calm her heart as she watched him rise from the couch and flick his cat on the nose. He shuffled through his bag and pulled out a phone.

_Did… did that cat just have a panic attack over a text?_

Akira scanned the words in silence. His mouth was almost tilted in a frown until an idea seemed to flash across his face.

He slowly placed his phone into his back pocket – far away from the cat – and he slung the bag across his shoulder.

“Do you trust me?” He turned back to her, offered his hand.

Makoto remained in her place, incredibly confused.

To his credit, Akira realized immediately that context would have helped her understand. “…If I wanted to show you something… If I said that you deserved to see the truth – the entire truth. About me, the things you’ve been seeing, all of it – would you be willing trust me?”

Makoto didn’t answer. She stared deep into the bottomless clouds of his eyes.

_She hadn’t noticed when he refilled her coffee. But then he took the seat next to her. Ran the tip of his nose along the edges of her ear. She noticed that._

_“No, Aki.” She murmured, nearly a mewl._

_Her refusal worked against her for a moment; the feeling of his laughter against her skin almost sent her over the edge. But he pulled away, and she took advantage of the moment to enact a little revenge. To cradle his face and plant a tiny, single peck on his lips._

_“Come here.” She continued, already back in her seat and opening his textbooks for him. “You’ll never stay at the top of your class if you think a cup of coffee and a little teasing is all it takes to distract your Queen.”_

_He laughed again at that, and the sound rang through every inch of her._

_“Yeah,” He finally replied, sliding into the booth and bringing his elbow to rest on the table. Propping his head in his hand. His eyes, as they met hers, were as clear as the summer sky. There wasn’t a single trace of disappointment to be seen. Only a pure, innocent joy at being granted a short time at her side. “Yeah.”_

She accepted his hand with a smile so bright that the edges of her eyes began to crinkle.

“Of course.”

~~~

The wait for their train to arrive was absolute bliss. Akira, unfortunately, released her hand as soon as they left Shujin, and she found herself sorely missing his touch the second it left. And now… they weren’t standing terribly close together, but Makoto could practically feel the heat radiating off of him. Whatever was happening between them, whatever he had asked permission for… it was something she wanted just as badly as him. For a dizzy moment, soaking in his presence, Makoto wanted nothing more than to lean against him; to wrap herself in his arms and ignore everything and everyone else.

But they were there for a reason.

And they were in public.

His fingers brushed low against the small of her back.

“Is everything all right? It’s okay if you don’t want to do this. Really.” His voice rumbled across her cheek, far deeper and scratchier than anything in that question required. She stifled a moan. She knew he felt the same as her; he felt that deep, consuming urge to hold each other as tightly as possible and never let go. To learn whether they could communicate every little thing between them without words.

To make even just some of those memories into reality. No matter how unrealistic that desire was.

“…Yes.” She finally replied, trying not to blush as she met his eyes, leaned into him ever so slightly. “Shall we go?”

The train was, somehow, nearly empty as they boarded. Akira led them to a pair of empty seats at the back, and they took the opportunity to relax. It made their trip easy enough. So easy, in fact, that at some point Makoto dozed off.  She woke to find herself resting against Akira’s chest, one of his arms wrapped around her and that breathtaking, familiar smile staring back down at her.

“You should be careful. I’m a dangerous criminal, you know.” He whispered, and she jolted herself from him before she even realized she was moving.

He laughed that breathy laugh of his, and she knew her blush had already spread all the way down her neck.

“So!” She asked, voice too high and doing a very poor job of masking her embarrassment. “Where exactly are we going? Or were you hoping to surprise me?”

Akira went very quiet for a time, and she could see him working to come up with an answer. He wasn’t trying to lie, to confuse or distract her. There was no malice in his silence. She knew that with every fiber of her being, as if his mind was more familiar than her own.

And given the past weeks of her life, she thought that may as well have been the case.

“Just to Shibuya, it’s… sorry, it’s a little hard to explain.” Akira finally answered, grinning. He played with the strap of his bag and looked toward the closest window. “We’ll be visiting someone. It’s the easiest way to clear everything up.”

Makoto nodded, her brow drawn down into a slightly stern expression. She touched her fingers to the edge of his sleeve and smiled.

“I trust you.” She quietly reminded him. _Always._

They arrived in Shibuya. Akira led her to an empty backstreet, he pulled out his phone and mumbled something into it.

A horrible wave of nausea pulsed through her.

Once. She stumbled.

Twice. She was on her knees.

Everything went dark.

~~~

“Please be okay…” Akira whispered to himself, cradling Makoto in his arms. His fingers were gently stroking through her hair.

Their trip to the Metaverse treated her far more harshly than Akira prepared for. Or even expected. She fainted immediately, and through the concerned wailing of Morgana casting every healing spell he could think of, the only thought he managed to piece together was that whatever was happening with her returning memories had simply been too much to deal with. The effort it took to travel between worlds must have been the final straw, and her body simply shut down.

He managed to find a place for the three of them to hide – the emptied out remains of some nameless corner shop – not that there was much to hide from so far away from the Palace, but Akira wasn’t about to take any chances. Not with her. Not today.

Morgana insisted on keeping guard, the words left unspoken as he moved to take his post were crystal clear; he wanted Akira and Makoto to have their time. He wanted them to have a chance to speak with no one watching. Because he could tell even from that single interaction in the student council room that something was happening with Makoto. That she would only accept help from Akira. That she would not rest until she found what she was looking for.

Makoto’s eyes fluttered open, and she gave the closest approximation to a grin as she could through the fog of exhaustion. She reached up and brushed gentle fingers along the edge of Akira’s jaw.

“…Aki…” She breathed.

The sound of her voice shattered Akira into a million pieces. He couldn’t help himself. He crushed her to his chest, buried his face in her hair and let out a shuddering breath against her.

He barely choked back his tears. “Don’t go scaring me like that again. I need you here.”

She let out a tiny, muffled noise into the fabric of his shirt; Akira thought to pull away and let her talk, but then her arms found their way around his body and she absolutely melted into his embrace. She nuzzled herself even closer. The two lost track of time together.

“What… what happened to me?” Makoto finally asked, pulling away only far enough to speak clearly.

“…You passed out.” Akira whispered, guilt was seeping into his every word. The old Makoto would have scolded him for that. “My fault for not noticing how exhausted you were.”

“No! Don’t – it’s _my_ fault for allowing myself to get so tired in the first place. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Akira exhaled sharply. He might have called it a chuckle in any other situation.

“Akira.” Makoto’s hand returned to cradle his face, and Akira leaned further into her palm without thinking. Closed his eyes and sighed, satisfied as he let himself enjoy the feeling of her touch. “This isn’t your fault. I should have been more responsible. I let myself become far too stressed worrying over how today would go.”

This time, he breathed something just slightly closer to a laugh. _This could never be her fault. She has to know that._

“You don’t look like you’re ready to admit that, though. Lets both accept the blame and call it fair.” She pushed ahead, unbothered by his silence. A single finger tapped him on the tip of the nose before she let her hand fall back into place, dragging along his lips as she went. “Now…where are we?” Makoto asked, pushing herself up to sit on her own and yet still refusing to leave the warmth of Akira’s arms. “And, and come to think of it, why are you dressed like that?”

Akira looked on without saying a word. And then he let his head drop; he finally allowed himself to smile and glanced back up at her through the cover of his bangs and the shield of his mask.

“Ah… Looks like you caught me, Miss Pres.” Came his reply, deep and playful. “I’m a Phantom Thief after all.”

She gaped back at him. Her jaw worked frantically to form some sort of reply.

“What.”

Again, he laughed. He flexed his fingers against her hair.

“I promise. That’s only part of why I asked you here though. I wanted to show you… _everything_. There’s so much I want you to see. But…” Akira faltered, he needed to give her one final chance to leave. He couldn't force her into this after so much had already gone wrong. “But I won’t ask you to do anything you don’t want to. Bringing you here already hurt you. Too much.”

“…and where is ‘here’, exactly?” Makoto tried.

He was still struggling to find the right words, couldn’t decide where to begin. But Makoto seemed to notice. More than that, she tried to help; she placed a palm against his chest and stared deep, deep into his eyes. His breath caught in his throat at the sight.

“Akira…”

He nodded, breathed deep and steadied himself against the feeling of her hand. “If you want to go back home… Turn me in, never speak to me again, I won’t stop you. But I hope I can ask you to trust me for a bit longer.”

“I _do_ trust you. I’ll remind you of that as many times as you need to hear it.” The gentle fingers resting on his chest slid up and along the fabric of his shirt, and soon both of her arms were resting along his shoulders, hands sliding through his hair. She beamed at him. And he returned her smile. For the way the old her shined through in that moment. For the realization that she really was _his_ Makoto, even if she couldn’t fully remember. For the way her entire presence lit up, he returned her smile.

“Okay… I – As soon as you’re ready to go, I’ll explain everything.”

Seemingly satisfied with that, Makoto nodded exactly once and then curled herself back against his chest. She tucked her head against his shoulder and took one of his hands in her own.

Akira kept track of every second that they stayed together.

And when Makoto finally moved to stand, she kept Akira’s hand entwined with her own. “Now,” She asked, pulling him to his feet and absolutely radiating confidence. “What was it you wanted to show me?”

He squeezed lightly at her palm. They stepped outside.

“O – ” Makoto nearly choked. “Oh.”

Explaining the Metaverse to Makoto was easy enough.

Akira was prepared this time.

She asked questions about every little detail and he made sure that this time, he had every answer. About the scenery, all eerie green clouds like the moments before a storm. The people – somehow sentient ATMs, dying or dead, walking around and lining the streets in their incoherent fear. About his costume, the cognitive psience, the Shadows, and even Personas. Though, Morgana’s transformation and ability to speak both still caught her off guard.

Akira enjoyed that little flash of the past more than he would ever admit.

When all was said and done, he watched Makoto steel herself for the journey through the dark mirror of Shibuya. She tried, at first, to walk several steps behind – to let Akira take charge and show the way – but he refused to accept that. He brushed a hand along her arm and urged her forward as gently as he could.

“Come on.” He felt himself smiling, couldn’t quite help himself anymore. “Get up here.”

She startled herself to a complete stop before answering. “I… Are you sure?”

“Mmm.”

“But what about the – Shadows, you called them?”

“We’ll take care of any we see, and I promise I’ll keep you safe.” He replied. “But this trip is for you, and there’s not anything to be gained by staying back there… I want you up here.” _I need you with me…_

She looked speechless, and her throat worked to come up with some sort of reply. But then she stopped. And she stepped forward, taking her place at his side with a satisfied hum as they continued forward once again. It wasn’t until they reached the floating fortress of Kaneshiro’s palace that Akira broke the silence.

He watched the entire structure float slowly downward. He watched the entrance ramp stiffly roll itself out, and he turned back to Makoto. To stare deep into those crimson gems she called eyes, to lose himself in the sight. She was determined, but she was scared. Her eyes always felt to him like the last moments of a sunset reflecting off the sky when she was trying so hard to be brave. He stared into her eyes for himself. And for her.

“No matter what happens in there… and things _will_ happen.” He urged her to understand. “No matter what, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

_Not now. Not ever again._

~~~

“No matter what, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Makoto nodded, let the words crash over her and leave her utterly breathless. They dislodged another memory.

She had been here before. Here with him. In this strange, hulking fortress in the sky. It claimed to be a bank, and Akira agreed with that assessment readily enough, but it all felt like something far more sinister.

Akira led her through the front entrance – the “Palace,” he called it, a palace and a bank all at once – and they were led by hulking security guards covered from head to toe in riot gear directly to a private room in the back. The room was comfortably decorated, as comfortable as could be expected, anyway. There was a couch on either side of the end table sitting in the center of the room. A projector screen on the far wall. It all looked fairly cheap, the exact sort of furniture you’d expect to see at a bank. This room was familiar as well. No windows. One exit. Blocked. They were trapped.

She looked to Akira, unsure exactly what she should be feeling, and he flashed a reassuring smile her way. He touched his knuckles to hers.

Then he looked toward the blank screen at the back of the room, and he directed one final comment to her. “Almost.”

Makoto wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that.

And then everything fell apart.

A man appeared on screen, more monster than anything. He was purple. Not a sickly purple, his strange skin was not the result of a disease, he just _was_. He wore an expensive, tailored suit, slicked back hair, and had a tiny little mustache to match his tiny little eyes. They were… yellow. Glowing. Like some sort of creature straight out of a cartoon.

He recognized Akira. He recognized _her._ And they talked back and forth for a time about something Makoto was far too distracted to hear, because this scene was _painfully_ familiar. And her breath was rapidly speeding up as she tried to realize why. The man in the screen was angry. Furious. He called to the guards stationed at the door of the room and Makoto barely had time to register that that’s what he had done before Akira shot the both of them square in the head without a second of hesitation. And they both dissolved into a strange shadowy sludge.

“ _That_. Is why I’m here.” Akira smirked toward the screen. “Consider this a declaration of war.”

The purple man fumed and screeched and stomped and suddenly she was being scooped up into Akira’s arms as they fled down the hall back toward the entrance of the bank and she still could not parse a single thing that had happened because _this was all so familiar._

They reached the main lobby, and more guards appeared around them in a burst of black slime and clouds of black smoke. The entire bank seemed full of them; there was barely even a path forward. Akira placed her down – gently, always gently, and she surprised herself for recognizing at least that little detail – and he asked the cat, Morgana, to protect her.

And then he was off. Flying through the air with a dagger in one hand and a pistol in the other. No matter how many swarmed his way; no matter how many of the endless army of Shadows attempted to hurt him, he was perfectly fine. He seemed completely at home as he slashed and shot his way through the crowd, leaving only a sea of black. Leaving only death in his wake.

It was all, so, familiar.

The litter of corpses dissolved to nothing. The way he smirked as he worked and the way the entire scene looked like a room being torn apart by a vicious storm was familiar. It was familiar. It was _too_ familiar. But all Makoto saw anymore was Akira sitting in that dark, cold room drenched in his own blood. He landed 3 perfectly aimed shots and the Shadows were immediately replaced with more. She saw the scars on his body, the first time they had allowed themselves to share in that vulnerability. He leaped off his enemies’ shoulders like it was as simple as walking. He tore off his mask, summoned a terrible magic creature and pummeled the Shadows to dust before even more rose to take their place. She felt every injury on his body. She saw him in the center of an arena, rows and rows of seats away, fighting for his life. Fighting to protect her. She heard him promising that there would be no more scars for her sake. That he would find a way to protect her while allowing her to do the same for him.

She saw him stand up to a man who had been threatening her, knowing full well that she could have handled herself.

And he was pulling her along by the arm as they both ran away, laughing and giggling and _free._

And they were together in a cafe. And they were studying together in Shujin’s library. And he was cooking in her apartment. And he… he was…

She saw...

Tears dripped down her face. Makoto saw… everything. Everything she had been searching for. Every little thing that had been missing.

_Do you finally remember?_

A loud, piercing voice crashed its way through her bones. A voice that sent her head throbbing with such intensity that she thought it might burst. She clutched at herself, doubled over and nearly collapsed to the floor

_You never truly left your path of strife; do you remember your reasons for embarking on this journey? Your reasons for accepting our contract?_

She couldn’t breathe. There wasn’t anything blocking her throat, she _should_ be able to inhale, she hadn’t accidentally clamped her own hands on her neck in a misguided attempt to stop the pain, but she still could not breathe. Her lungs burned, and her every muscle ached. Her entire presence felt full to the brim and ready to overflow at even the thought of anything else being brought in, and still she _needed_ more air.

_That boy can not protect you forever. It is your turn, now. Protect him. Save him._

She wheezed, she pushed out every last bit of air she could and strained against herself to inhale until her lungs were full once again. And the pain was gone. Her head was empty. She staggered forward and without warning that horrible feeling of being torn to shreds from the inside out was returned.

_Call out my name and renew our agreement. Take back that which is rightfully yours before those monsters rip it away!_

Makoto shrieked. Louder and longer than her lungs had space. Everything around her was destroyed, the floor cracked, windows shattered, and furniture was sent flying. The air seemed to crackle and spark with her energy as if she was the very embodiment of violence. The Shadows Akira had been fighting washed away to nothing, and this time none rose to take their place.

She was dimly aware of shouting something at the stubborn few that remained before they, too, turned into dust. Of Akira rushing to her side. And of the three of them breaking out of the Palace and returning to reality before everything in her vision faded to white.

~~~

_“…Morgana.” Akira reached for the note Sojiro left stuck to the television. “I need your opinion on something.”_

_“You want to help Niijima awaken her Persona.” Morgana replied._

_Akira stared back in genuine surprise, not sure how to respond as the cat leapt onto the nearest bar stool._

_“She’s like the others. I wasn’t sure before today.” Continued Morgana. “But after hearing what she had to say… I’m positive, Akira. I sensed it. She has the potential, and she’s scared on top of that. It would be safer for her if she was with us.”_

_“…Will you help? She doesn’t deserve… that. Whatever that was.”_

_Morgana grumbled, more to himself than anything. “I want to, but I’m not sure how. It’s not like any of you got your Personas on purpose, and my memories are still nowhere to be found!”_

_Akira exhaled. He collapsed into the booth at his back._

_“I might… I might have an idea.”_

The setting sun glared across Akira’s glasses. He stood, forehead pressed to the vending machine in front of him. Just around the corner from the bench where Makoto was resting. He stared past it, stared through it. Through the wall even further back and through absolutely everything. Trying to decide just how truly awful this idea was. Trying to collect his thoughts.

She collapsed. Again. Before they even made it out of the Metaverse.

_My fault. Again._

He crouched down, grabbed the bottle of oolong tea he paid for and made his way back. Makoto needed rest, but she needed to drink something first. He might have made a mistake by bringing her to the Metaverse, but he wasn’t about to let her run herself ragged in the same way he had so many months ago. At least one of them should do things right. And he could at least attempt to make it up to her like this.

He smirked to himself as he turned the corner.

Makoto was finally sitting up on her own, Morgana curled up in her lap as she scratched and pet and the two held a relaxed conversation something he couldn’t quite hear. She noticed him before he had a chance to say a word, and she waved him over with a smile spreading from ear to ear.

“Thank you for the drink.” She said, as Akira handed it over.

“Mmm. Are you feeling any better?”

“I am. That…” She hesitated, a grin still wreathing her face. “All of that certainly answered my questions.”

“I’m glad.” He answered, matching her smile with everything he had.

They sat together without speaking for a time. Makoto slowly finished off her tea, and Akira remained content to enjoy her company as she regained even a fraction of her energy. To surround himself in her presence.

“Whenever you’re feeling well enough to walk, we should probably get you home, I’m sure someone’s worried about you.” He finally pressed.

“Oh, um.” Makoto was hesitating, and Akira gave it no further thought. “Could we…” She paused again. She bit gently at her lower lip. “…hungry.”

Akira exhaled something close to a laugh and glanced down the street. “Sure. I’m sure there’s somewhere we can pick up a snack around here.”

When he finally met her eyes, he saw nothing but frustration staring back at him. Even Morgana was leveling him with a disbelieving glare.

_Is she… she can’t be trying to…_

Makoto brought her hand to rest on his thigh, just above the knee. “I’d – I was hoping we could go somewhere private and eat. There’s still a few things I would like to discuss.”

He tensed under her grip.

“Are you sure? It’s getting pretty late.”

“I know.”

“I guess we could head somewhere around here?” He tried, a futile, final effort.

“Akira.” She breathed, leaning closer. And the way she spoke… if he didn’t know any better, he might have considered that her memories had fully returned. Because that sense of authority had only ever been _hers_.

But that could never be the case.

“Oh.” Akira slowly relented, staring into the depths of her eyes. She didn’t want him to be polite and send her on her way. To give her a chance to recover and pick their discussion up the next day. She couldn’t possibly remember everything, but she still… She was still asking… “ _Oh._ Would you like to join me back to Leblanc?”

Makoto nodded, keeping him trapped, watching as he drowned in those slowly darkening crimson pools.

They stayed close together during their walk to the station. They stood even closer on the ride to Yongen. Too close. There were too many others around, not enough room. The train hit a bump and Makoto ended up thrown straight into Akira’s arms.

“What did I tell you earlier?” He teased, pulling her even closer and staring intently out the window. “You should be more careful around me.”

Makoto nuzzled further into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his waist with a hushed moan.

“Maybe I don’t want to be careful.”

Akira shuddered.

_She can’t possibly remember._

~~~

The cafe was empty and closed by the time they arrived. The sun had already set, and neither Akira or Morgana wasted any time in moving to their places – one curled up in a loaf, resting on the bar stool closest to the door. The other behind the counter, set to work making a meal. After helping Makoto into a booth, at least. The feeling of Akira’s hands on her back and on her arms and her shoulders as he lowered her down was an exquisite rush of memories.

She finally remembered, back in the Metaverse. Makoto remembered every little detail about her time together with Akira, and each new touch, every new look and every new word leaving his lips was a rush through all of it all over again. It was all she could do not to throw herself into his arms the second he unlocked the door. 

She missed him so much.

And she knew. Knew now, with every fiber of her being that he truly _was_ her Akira.

He was making coffee exactly like he always did. Acting as if every action was the most important thing in the world. Glancing up at her through lidded eyes barely covered beneath his bangs and doing a terrible job of hiding his little smirks. _He probably doesn’t know, yet._

_I’ll just have to make sure he does before tonight is over._

When Akira finished with the cooking and the brewing and was finally, _finally_ sitting across from her in the booth – the center booth. _Their_ booth – and when they had both finished eating, she moved to strike.

“Thank you, Akira.”

“It’s nothing, I’d cook for any of my friends.” And when he smiled, it truly felt as if the stars had somehow descended to reflect their light in his eyes.

“Not for that.” She said.

He quirked an eyebrow.

Makoto gestured to the empty cafe. “Thank you for this afternoon. And for taking care of me for so long… and… caring enough to give me that opportunity today. Thank you.” She smiled back at him and a stray giggle nearly escaped.

He exhaled like she had stolen all the breath from his lungs.   

“…It’s nothing.” Akira turned away, the beginnings of a blush powdered on his cheeks.

“It’s _not_ nothing” She reached out, across the table, and placed her hands over his. Ran little trails along his wrists with her thumbs

Morgana chimed in from his perch at the bar. “She’s right! You worked super hard to bring this all together. You found a Palace all on your own and helped Miss Niijima here get a Persona! I didn’t even know any of that was possible! Don’t be humble about it.”

Akira glared at the cat and pulled his hands closer to himself. Makoto only smiled, thankful for the help. Morgana chose to focus on her reaction and beamed from his seat.

And then Morgana nodded to Makoto, laughing to himself as he leaped down from the bar stool. “I think it’s about time I take off, I’ve overstayed my welcome _just_ a bit. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“You deserve thanks too, Morgana.” Makoto leaned down and scratched at the top of Morgana’s head as he passed by, and Morgana let out that same mischievous laugh before hopping up to open the door and let himself outside.

Akira blinked, confused.

“I asked for his assistance with something, earlier.” And Makoto brushed her foot, slow and steady, along the inside of Akira ankle. She turned her hands over, palms up, and offered them to him once again. He blinked, and did not move for a long, long while.

But he finally relented. Let his hands slide into hers and tangled their fingers together.

“I have something I’d like to talk about, Aki.” Makoto murmured, voice soft and scratchy in all the ways that she knew would send sparks along his spine. She felt it even in his fingers. But he seemed conflicted. About her touches, and Morgana, and especially the sound of that nickname leaving her lips. It was the first time she called him by that name since her memories had fully returned. It was also the first time she had been entirely unbothered by them, entirely clear. Not stumbling into him in the middle of the street, half in a daze and unsure where she was. Not waking up, all smiles and curled up in his arms. She wondered if he realized that as well.

“Are – it really is getting late.” He tried. “Are you sure you don’t need to head back home?”

“I’m sure.”

He swallowed, looking down at their joined hands as she squeezed lightly. “…Someone is probably waiting for you.”

“Not tonight.” Makoto shook her head. “There’s no one but you.”

“I…”

Her smile didn’t falter for an instant as she rose, she fully expected that he would cling so desperately to that urge to be a gentleman. Even now. She doubted he had truly gotten over what happened. That he would even begin to forgive himself.

She circled the table, still holding his hands, bent forward so their faces were less than a breath apart. And she looked at him. _Really_ looked at him. She willed him to understand what she was too scared to admit. That she was back.

That she remembered.

“Come with me.” Makoto brushed her nose to his and tugged gently at his hands. She let her voice drop lower and betray every bit of the desire she was feeling. “I think you’ll like what I have to say, _study partner_.”

Disbelief filled Akira’s face. He hesitated, still seeming to ignore the words between the lines. He stared deep into her eyes. But he finally accepted. He let Makoto pull him gently toward the attic.

And as they entered his room, and crossed the threshold, she kissed him. A tiny peck to the tip of his nose.

Everything finally seemed to fall into place in that instant. His eyes widened and brightened like the clouds in the night parting to reveal the glow of the moon. Makoto pulled him closer. So close that the only thing they could do as they crossed those final few steps to his bed was to stare into each other’s eyes. And they tumbled down, spinning and laughing together until she was sitting on his lap, her palms resting low on his stomach.

She leaned down and kissed him then. Sudden and fierce and soft and as gentle as she could manage all at once. And his head tilted up. His lips moved over hers in the way only his could. Makoto nearly sobbed in relief as she felt his arms settle on her waist, on the small of her back. It was the same.

It was him.

She was truly back.

He was truly here.

She clung to him, gripped closer and harder at his shoulders and the blazer of his uniform, and she felt his hands do the same. They pressed further, urged her closer and crawled up every inch of her back that he could reach. He moved the same. He felt the same. Tasted the same and touched the same and even moaned the same. He was the same and he was here and she remembered.

She _remembered._

They broke away together, both gasping for air and threading their hands through one another’s hair; foreheads pressed together and eyes looking at nothing but each other.

“…Makoto…” Akira whispered, gasping for breath and his voice absolutely reverent. Awestruck. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. Just as a smile played at the edges of her lips. “Makoto...”

Makoto kissed him again, before either had even begun to catch their breath. So sweetly and delicately that he couldn’t help but gasp in response. And she cupped his face, smiled her brightest smile at him. She pulled him close and buried her head in the crook of his neck.

“That’s the first time you’ve said my name since that day.” She sighed into his skin.

“I…” He clutched her impossibly closer, threading his fingers through her hair. “How are you – How did you…”

She only shook her head, shifted slightly so that her lips were pressed again to his skin and left a single, small kiss in the spot.

He trembled in response. She could all but feel him screw his eyes closed, trying futilely to fight back tears. “I’m sorry, Makoto.”

“Don’t…” Makoto took her turn trying to fight back the urge to cry. “Please don’t.”

“I _died._ ”

“You’re here.” She bit back. Wrapping her arms tighter around him. Willing him to understand with everything she had.

“I broke our promise.” He sobbed. And the floodgates fell open for them both.

“You’re _here._ ” She shot up, so she was once again straddling his lap, staring down at him through tear filled eyes. Makoto pressed her hands to his shoulders. “You are _here_. No matter what happened, no matter how it happened or why it happened, you are here, and you came back to me. Akira. You’re here.”

Makoto knew her words hit their mark by the way he closed his eyes and sighed deep. They had promised each other, long ago, that this sort of guilt had no place between them; it was a dance they were both so prone to falling back into that eventually they decided enough was enough. They would simply stop. They had kept it every day since then. Just as they had their other promises.

Just as Akira kept this promise.

“You’re the same as ever, Aki.” Her face softened into a gentle grin, and his did the same. “Always acting like everything is your fault even when it turns out okay.”

He closed his eyes. Exhaled a single, small laugh.

Makoto let her eyes drag over him, then. Her fingers trailed shortly behind as she took in everything from the curls of his hair to the lines of his jaw, from the shape of his lips and the curve of the muscles on his neck. And then she reached his uniform. She chewed at her lip as she toyed with his collar in silence. As he lay there, perfectly still and content to let her do everything she wanted. Makoto met his eyes once again. Then she nodded and set her fingers to work on the buttons of her own uniform.

“…Makoto?” Akira questioned, leaning up on his elbows.

“Do you remember,” She ignored him, shrugged out of her shirt and tossed it to some soon to be forgotten corner of the room. “That tiny little bar where you confessed to me?”

He blinked up at her. Mouth working to reply as she continued undaunted, unclasped her bra. She let a single strap fall from its shoulder.

And then Akira smiled a bright little smile, closed his eyes, and brought his hands to rest on the bare skin of her waist. “Yeah. I remember.” He stroked his thumbs along the line of her hips. “I also remember you were so floored in disbelief that you made me explain _as clearly as possible_ that I liked you.”

Makoto let out an overly faked gasp, bringing her hands to cover her mouth and allowing the other strap to slide down her arm. “ _Liked?”_

Akira’s smile twitched, he pulled himself up so that they were sitting together. He tugged her bra entirely off and pressed his forehead to hers. Cradled her face and sighed against her lips. Her arms curved around his shoulders and her hands threaded into his hair. “I love you, Makoto.”

“I love you too, Aki.” She pressed the breath of a kiss to his lips. “Welcome home.”

And she kissed him again, deeper than before.

And he shoved his tongue into her mouth, and his hands left their place at her sides. Makoto was dimly aware that it was so he could take off his own clothes, but her mind went blank as he kissed her with everything he had, and suddenly he turned them around and rolled them over so that he was laying on top of her, his lithe muscles and soft skin and the entire weight of his body pressed against her. And… and his scars were gone. She gently urged him up for a better look; his entire torso was spotless. Not a single cut, or scrape, or even a minor injury. Not even one of the marks that she had seared into her memory was there to blemish his body. Nothing but one single deep, _deep_ slash spreading from the bottom of his left ribs to the curve of his right shoulder.

She traced her fingers along the mark. From end to end. Akira shivered, and when she met his eyes – still so vibrant, still so bright that they were nearly blue – he shook his head, closed his eyes.

“…After we ran into each other,” His eyes were still closed. “After I saw you outside, down the street… we – ”

She pressed a finger to his mouth. Because that was enough, she understood.

Makoto pulled him back to her. Their lips crashed together, and they kissed until neither remembered the first thing about where they were or who they were. Hot and needy, hands clawing into his curls as Akira snaked his own along her neck. She trapped him against her mouth, urged his lips open with a brush and a flick of her tongue, tugged him closer, closer, until she felt a hand slipping down her chest. When she pulled away, Makoto was breathless, and Akira was already moving back to press a tiny trail of tinier kisses across her shoulders and her neck and all the way to the shell of her ear. She nearly forgot about the journey his hand had taken along her body as he nibbled on the lobe. He growled at the soft noise she made.

“I remember that afternoon we spent in Hawaii.” His words tickled against her skin almost as much as the feel of his entire palm ghosting along the skin of her belly.

She giggled. “I wanted so badly to touch you. We were finally alone together.”

“You should have.” He replied, and he leaned closer, moved just to her side. He brushed her bangs from her face; held her with an expression so loving and caring that Makoto lost the ability to look away. And then that mischievous hand of his was between her legs. Drawing little shapes and patterns _just_ above the place she wanted him most.

“We, _hahh_ – we weren’t even together back then! I didn’t know if you liked me.” She moved her fingers from his hair, down the sides of his neck, and gripped hard at his shoulders.

“I was already yours, Makoto. Every part of me, even then.” He seemed like he might never tire from saying her name. And Makoto was thankful; because as much as she missed the sound of it dancing on his lips, there was no doubt he missed it even more.

His thumb brushed lower, and when he reached that softness between her legs, stroked the rough pad of his finger against the nub just above her entrance, she gasped out. Wordless. But she did not look away. Did not close her eyes.

“Someone would have seen us…” She commented, trying to tease, to continue their conversation. Her voice came far too hushed and tangled between too many moans to pretend it had worked.

He slipped a single finger inside of her, curling up and following her body wherever she took him. Her grip on his scalp tightened, and Akira let loose a small groan at the feeling. Hooded eyes trailed down. Breaking his spell on her even as he remained the only thing she could see. Even as his pupils drifted to her lips.

“No one would have recognized us.” He whispered, so dark and heavy that every inch of her body trembled in response. A second finger slipped inside, and he was moving faster now. And his thumb was pressing _just_ a little harder, just enough. And the edges of her vision were sparkling and fading away, and Makoto wrenched him closer to muffle her screams against his lips.

They kissed as he worked his fingers against her. They kissed as he went faster, as she bucked and rolled and thrust her hips against him, and suddenly, finally, she felt every nerve in her body tighten together and burst forth in a white-hot fire. Makoto’s face dragged along Akira’s before finding home tucked into his shoulder, painting the path with an almost deafening moan.

She didn’t allow herself time to rest. Adrenaline pulled Makoto back to herself, back against Akira’s lips and his skin. She tangled her limbs with his until he understood her point. Until he gently removed the last few pieces of clothing between them. Until there was nothing left and they were finally together again, skin against skin, for the first time. For the hundredth time. She pushed him over, turned him onto his back.

And he went willingly.

They gasped, and they laughed as they remembered. Shared everything as they explored each other. Akira rolled his knuckles along the sides of her breasts because she could never suppress her giggles when he did, because he knew she was ticklish, and that she would never _ever_ ask him to pull his hands away. Makoto squeaked into his skin at the feeling, and she lapped at the spot under Akira’s ear because she could never forget the way he moaned when she first discovered how sensitive he was.

And then she was sitting up, guiding him inside.

“Ahn – Akira…”

And it was almost strange, in this new future they had made for themselves – to be here like this. It was new, and it was familiar, and it was old, and it was surprising, and before long it was nothing but _them_ because they were rocking back and forth. Rolling against each other and voicing every bit of pleasure. Together. Marking every available patch of skin with nails and teeth and lips and tongues. Rediscovering their rhythm. Learning all over again.

“Akira.” Makoto gasped, pulling him into a slow, lazy kiss. Losing herself in the sweet taste of his lips. In how even now, the scent of coffee seemed to cling to him. Her words danced along his lips. “Do you remember that evening on the Ferris wheel?”

“What about the fireworks festival? You looked so beautiful in your yukata...”

“The first time you asked me on a date, after I joined the team – ”

Akira clutched her closer, pulled her into another kiss, a fierce kiss; too hard, but neither of them cared, because all that mattered was that they were together again. Then Makoto pushed herself up. She braced a palm on his chest and she matched that passion in her own way, taking him as only she could. Claiming him. Capturing him. Every part of him. She leaned down, leaned closer and growled.

“ _Mine._ You are _mine._ ”

_Her entire presence was a storm. Her surroundings were burning, combusting, sparking and crackling. The only thing on her mind in that moment was that her Akira was right there in front of her, and those Shadows… those terrible, selfish Shadows were trying to take him away forever. She stepped forward. Everything seemed to burn even further. She stepped again. And again. And she screamed. The walls shook with her voice._

_“He’s mine!”_

_The flames of her awakening consumed everything in sight._

“Yes.” Akira whispered up to her through that gentle, innocent smile of his. He held her face in his hands as tenderly as he could. “Always, Makoto.”

“Since the first day we met, Aki.”

“I was yours. Even before I saw you in the Metaverse.”

“When you caught me spying and you pulled away my book to kiss me – ”

“On the roof, after the festival – ”

“You came back to me. You’re here, Aki.”

“Always, Makoto.”

“ _Always._ ”

It wasn't long before Akira gave up trying to match her pace, he seemed more than content to let her have her way. To soak in her presence. And that was perfect. She didn’t want him trying to keep up. Not tonight. Not now, when she finally remembered. She was finally back. She was finally herself again and she wanted to thoroughly _drown_ herself in that feeling and in that knowledge.

“Akira…”

No matter how fiercely she moved, how intensely she took him, Akira only laid back and smiled. Like he was worshiping at her altar. She watched that familiar tinge of gold seep its way back into his eyes like the first beams of daylight breaking through the darkness. A barely suppressed heat that he would only ever hold back for her sake. One that could swallow them both up in an instant. Time and time again. He brushed his fingers along the trail of her spine, he pulled her close to bury his face into her hair and pepper hundreds of tiny little pecks along everything in reach, everything he could find. Onto her neck and her shoulders, and he lapped at her chest and nipped at the sensitive skin.

“Oh _Akira…”_

One of his hands slid back down, just above the place where they were joined together. Until she was screaming. Until they were both clutching each other together as tightly as they could. Muffling their moans and their gasps against each other until Makoto felt her vision going and that familiar heat pooling, and coiling, and ready to overflow all over again. He thrust up into her from below as he continued to draw little patterns at her entrance.

“Akira, Akira, Aki… please…”

She was almost there. She just needed…

He wrapped his free arm around her and whispered into her ear. “You are _beautiful_ , Makoto.”

And everything finally, finally spilled forth. They reached their climax together, felt everything crest over them together. And it was wonderful. Wave after wave of that almost electric pleasure washed through Makoto, almost perfectly in sync with the feeling of Akira pulsing and throbbing inside of her.

It was everything she ever hoped for. Everything she missed for so long. And they had it together. Finally and again.

She collapsed on top of him, and he lay boneless beneath her.

“Makoto… oh…” He exhaled, breathless. He stroked his hands through her hair, and she dimly realized that her headband had disappeared at some point earlier. Akira scratched gently at her scalp; trailed his fingers down the nape of her neck and the curve of her spine before his hands came to rest on her hips.

Exhaustion finally caught up to Makoto. The lack of sleep, her entrance into the Metaverse, her _exit_ from the Metaverse… the weight of all those memories. All of it finally found its way back. And she closed her eyes. Drifted away in his arms.

Only, he was shifting and stretching beneath her. To lean over the side of the bed and gather the blanket they had thrown off the edge at some point earlier. When they were both covered and nestled beneath something vaguely resembling an acceptable arrangement of sheets, they lay still for a long, quiet moment. His fingers played gently through her hair, and hers ran little patterns along the space below his neck.

“…I’m home.” Makoto whispered into his shoulder.

“You are.” Akira kissed the top of her head. The feeling of his grin pressed against her was contagious.

She continued. “You kept your promise.”

“…I did.”

For a short while, there was only silence between them. Nothing but the sound of their slowly steadying breaths and the dull hum of the city just outside the window. Everything was normal again. After everything, after it all, they finally captured their moment of peace. Grasped it in their hands and ripped it from the cruel hands of fate.

It wouldn’t be quite that simple, she knew that. There was still the matter of changing Kaneshiro’s heart. He might not be aware of what they did, but they couldn’t exactly leave things as they were. And then there was the others; the matter of explaining everything to them in a way that made any sort of sense. Of saving the ones that remained all over again. Because she knew that Akira would never accept any less. Because _she_ wouldn’t accept any less. And even beyond that… there was the reason they were here in the first place. The one who took their meticulously crafted plan and forced them to watch as he burned it all to ash.

But for now, at least, they had their peace. They had each other. And that was enough.

“I’m sorry, I’m so tired…” Makoto yawned and tugged herself closer, tried to bring as much of his warmth to herself as she could. “I love you, Akira… I missed you so much.”

He kissed her nose, and he twined their fingers together.

“I missed you too.” He whispered. “I love you too. You’ve had a long day… For now, just rest, Makoto.”

With that, and with the smile it brought to her face, Makoto finally let herself drift to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

When Akira woke, he was not in his bed. He was not in his room with Makoto at his side, in his arms, her presence wrapped all around him and clinging on like he was something truly precious.

He wasn’t even in Leblanc.

The ceiling was blue, the fabric lining the walls was blue, and he knew somehow, that if he propped himself onto an elbow and looked just ahead, the metal bars staring back at him would be blue.

He realized that everything around him was blue down to the very molecules that composed it all.

Being forced back to that place, after so much distance and so much time away, unsettled him so deeply that his throat began to dry. It unsettled him almost as much as the sight waiting just beyond his cramped prison cell. A caricature of a man sitting behind a desk in the center of the room. His smile was unnaturally large. Nearly everything about him was strange and alien. Twin prison guards stood on either side. They were like him; very nearly human. All the right features in all the right places, and yet still none of it right.

“Trickster.” Called the man. His voice deep enough to shake the very foundation of the prison despite his calm, collected tone. “How interesting...”

Akira didn’t answer. He silently pushed himself to his feet and shuffled across the space of the cell.

“How interesting indeed,” The man continued. “for one so willing to destroy himself for the sake of his allies to let this second chance at rehabilitation slip through his fingers. Will you leave the mystery unsolved? Will you so easily allow the world to fall to ruin?”

Akira let his eyes drag across every one of the three outside his cell.

“Will you so easily abandon the bonds you have worked to forge? I must say, I am disappointed to see this result come so easily.”

He remained silent.

“You are still bound by contract, Trickster. If you will not learn from your past mistakes, you will never succeed.”

Still, Akira refused speak.

“I do not require an answer; I only mean to remind you of your goal.” The man chuckled. Deeper and louder than his usual tone of speech. “Go, now. Return to your world and think on the direction in which you are headed.”

Akira jolted awake.

Before he could even think to move, he was being tugged forward into a familiar embrace. Soft lips brushed just above his own, and his head was safely tucked away against an even softer chest.

“Go back ‘sleep. ‘m here.”

_Makoto._

An uneasy smile teased at the corners of his mouth.

~~~

Makoto slept gently, wrapped in the warmth of the morning sun and the comforting strength of Akira’s arms. She wasn’t quite awake yet, and the peaceful energy surrounding them both kept her swimming in and out of consciousness. She raked her fingers through Akira’s curls, and he nuzzled even closer; stirred out of sleep just enough to tickle the soft skin of her neck with his hair.

She pulled Akira closer. Laughed to herself, small and breathy. And for the first time since her return, she allowed herself to look around at their room. To truly take everything in.

It had been just over a week since the two of them found each other all over again, and thinking back on their first night together still caused Makoto to blush in something halfway between embarrassment and joy. It wasn’t as if they never… but she heard directly from Morgana how much their situation was destroying Akira.

How he almost died that day when they met in the street.

She traced across the scar on his chest.

After so much heartbreak and so much worry, they finally managed to keep their most important promise.

He woke before her that first morning, and she felt the pads of his fingers and the tips of his nails dancing along the exposed skin of her back. When she finally opened her eyes, he was beaming down at her. Still wearing the same look of disbelief, of utter admiration he was the night before. The look he always wore when their nights ended together. When their days began together. And she couldn’t even bring herself to feel guilty over the worry that kept her eyes closed for so long. The worry that maybe it was all just a dream, maybe none of it was real. The look on his face washed it away in an instant.

He pulled her close, pulled her into a lazy, aimless kiss. One that felt to Makoto like a silent promise; they had made it through death, through time and space to find each other again, they would make it through this.

Sojiro was sitting in his usual spot – hours before his usual arrival – when they descended the steps all unmanaged bed hair and still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Two plates of breakfast and two cups of coffee sat on the counter to his side.

He didn’t miss much.

“Good to see you kids finally made up.” Was all he said, and he waited to speak until they were halfway out the door being greeted by Morgana and an empty bowl of cat food.

And when they arrived at Shujin holding hands, the rumor mill spun to life louder than ever. Akira had tried futilely during their trip to come up with excuses to part ways early. To keep her safe from the looks, and the gossip, while she simply smiled and nodded and gripped his hand tighter. She dragged him all the way to the entrance of the student council room and pulled him into a quick, soft kiss before stepping inside and leaving him in a daze, on display for everyone to see.

That terrible, villainous transfer student stood perfectly tamed and leashed by the only student more threatening than him.

Her kiss was meant as a response to the gossip. That rumors about Akira were rumors about _her_.

 _“I’m not hiding this time, Akira.”_ She texted him, as soon as she was sure he had recovered enough to notice.

The whispers swelled up louder than ever for all of a day before the students involved realized almost all at once that it meant they were telling lies and weaving stories about two most terrifying students in Shujin.

They stopped immediately.

And after they did, being able to openly spend time with Akira proved every bit as wonderful as Makoto hoped. To see all of his little quirks again and know that this time, they had _so much_ time. Every little tilt of his head or curve of his lips grabbed her attention in new and unexpected ways. Every smile. Every word. Every touch. All of it was more than she ever thought to wish for.

Their days were perfect, and the nights…

She brushed her fingers through his bangs, slicked his hair back as much as it would allow. Akira leaned into her palm, aware that it was her even through the fog of his dreams.

Their nights hadn’t always ended like the first. Sometimes they would rent a movie and watch together, Morgana at their side like they were a perfectly normal couple living perfectly normal lives. They studied together. They cooked for each other. They did nothing more than drink coffee and sit, draped in each other’s arms as they rest in their favorite booth, the tv droning on in the background.

But every night, they were together.

And every morning, they were together.

Makoto pressed her lips to Akira’s brow, newly uncovered and practically begging for a kiss.

“We have to get up, Aki. Sojiro will be here soon.” She murmured against his skin.

Akira’s head flopped forward and found a new home tucked into her shoulder. His hair tickled, and the feeling of those dark curls brushing around had giggles spilling from her lips before she could stop them.

“Too early…” He groaned, and the burst of hot air on her skin only made her laughter grow louder. “Go ‘way.”

“Aki…” Makoto giggled.

And then she was being pulled closer. So close that the only thing in sight was Akira’s eyes slowly peeking open. So close that she could feel the words on his lips.

“Good morning.” A lone strand of hair fell across her face, and he brushed it back, cradled her face in his hand. “Makoto.”

“Good morning, Aki.”

She watched his tired eyes, so full of intent despite their need to hurry, as they drank in every detail of her face. She watched him linger on her lips, on her eyes, move even lower to –

“Good m’rning you two! Finally!” Came a muffled screech from the cat settled at the top of the stairs, personal bed firmly grasped in its mouth. “We’re g’nna be late fer school, come on come on!”

Before long they were both fully dressed and prepared and making their way down to the cafe. Though, Makoto endeavored to give Akira the hardest time she possibly could, peppering every inch of skin about to be covered with little kisses and licks and nibbles. Something was bothering him. And she knew he would tell her sooner than later, but that didn’t mean a little push toward that point would be unwelcome.

Their food was finished and laid out in their booth just as they took their seats.

“You two are late today.” Sojiro deadpanned, despite the growing smirk on his face. He wiped his hands across his apron and returned to his place in the kitchen before anyone could answer. “Anything I should know about?”

Makoto smiled to herself. To Morgana, sitting in her lap.

“Nothing serious. I just realized we still haven’t told anyone about, uh...” Akira gestured to Makoto. He poked aimlessly at his food when it became clear she had nothing to add.

_Oh!_

_…Oh._

“Oh. You’re right. I completely forgot to speak with the others after everything that’s happened…” Makoto felt suddenly too embarrassed to eat. She had been so caught up in enjoying herself that the others escaped her mind entirely.

A fit of deep, throaty laughter burst its way from the kitchen, but Sojiro stayed facing his curry like it was the most important thing in the room. “Well, I suppose even you kids deserve a little honeymoon from reality every now and again.”

That sense of embarrassment took hold even further. Grew into a blush that spread down to her collarbones.

Akira looked into her eyes, smiling like he knew exactly what she was thinking. His entire presence screaming that she had no reason to worry.

And so she stopped.

She didn’t worry.

She knew her position as the Phantom Thieves’ Advisor was worthless; something she had needed for her own sake a lifetime ago. She was stronger now, and she had her family, and she knew all of them saw each other as equals in every way. The idea that she should know better, that she should _be_ better was unreasonable. She was allowed to forget, to enjoy herself and stop worrying just like anyone else. She knew that much.

But she still felt a small twinge of guilt over neglecting to think of them even once.

“Don’t worry about it.” A small voice whispered from her lap. She felt a paw come to rest on her wrist. “Boss is right, you two earned a break after all that stuff.”

Makoto nodded. She would be there at Akira’s side to explain everything when he decided the time was right. To explain every part of it.

“So.” Akira urged, once they had finished their meals and left for the station. He took her hand in his.

“So.” Makoto twined their fingers together, felt herself lost in his eyes. “…You probably need to head to class as soon as we arrive, right?”

He pulled her close against his side with a smile. Akira always could read her like a book.

“Yeah. And then we’ll clear things up with everyone tonight.” He promised, and she could feel his voice vibrating through his chest. Soothing. Calming.

She nodded against his blazer and clung just a bit closer as they took off. Together.

~~~

“Akira! Hey Akira!”

His bag shifted against his shoulder as he weaved his way through the waves of students.

“Keep that up and someone’s going to hear you, Morgana.” He – gently, so that no one heard him – commented.

The frustrated _snort_ of a reply was felt more than heard.

“Oh, you know no one will. I just wanted to tell you I’m glad you’re finally explaining things to Ann and Ryuji.” Morgana said, peeking his head through the zipper. “You two were so happy, I didn’t want to say anything.”

“Yeah.” Akira nodded. “…Thanks for letting us have that chance to pretend our lives aren’t… this. Even for just a few days, it was nice.”

Morgana ducked back into the bag, he gently nudged Akira through the fabric. Neither spoke during the rest of their walk.

Akira’s day passed as calmly as ever. And when their lunch break came around, when Ryuji texted to ask if he and Ann could join him on the roof, he knew his time was up.

They had the same plans as him.

Ann turned, an expectant shine in her eyes as her hand came to rest on his, and he smiled back. He didn’t miss the relieved curve of her lips. He didn’t miss the gentle scrape of her nails along his skin as she spun on her heels and yanked him up, out of his seat.

The roof was empty, still unlocked and unused. Even after Makoto’s empty threat sent their group packing. The planters in the far corner still seemed empty, and Ryuji was laying sprawled across a pair of desks in the other.

“Hey.” He levered himself up and folded his legs together. Akira noted that Ryuji, too, seemed relieved to know they were still on speaking terms.

Ann and Akira both slid into the chairs at Ryuji’s side; as Akira sat, he reached out and ran his knuckles along Ryuji’s thigh. He kept it up as Morgana leapt out of his bag and perched in Ann’s lap. As they sat together, no one speaking a word.

And he thought, for a moment, that they looked as normal as ever – like nothing ever happened.

Ryuji cleared his throat. “…You been good?”

Akira nodded, beaming and shining up at his friend. Ryuji was fidgeting.

“Good. Good. You _should_ be good.”

A scoff broke the awkward silence. “Oh come on, Ryuji! It’s not this hard.” Ann pushed forward as if she was scolding them both. “Akira. The last time we heard from you was just after we stole Madarame’s treasure – you were a complete wreck.”

Again, Akira only nodded.

“You left us all on our own to figure out what was wrong, and then you stopped spending time with us! Without a word! And when we finally heard about _why_ , it wasn’t even from you, it was because of the _rumors_ about you and Niijima.” Her words were calm enough, but she was frustrated, petting Morgana just a little too hard, the gleam in her eyes just a little too intense. “Last I checked, she still had us under investigation! And now I guess you two are dating? And it’s – we… we’re not upset, we just want you to talk to us again. We haven’t had an actual conversation in over a week, Akira.”

Ryuji mumbled his agreement “Feels like you’re tradin’ us in for someone else.” His eyes darted to Ann as he spoke, then back to Akira. “‘n I don’t care about our work as the Thieves right now, that ain’t what this is. You know the kinda crap we’ve both gone through with people up and leavin’ out of nowhere… You owe us an answer for why you’re startin’ to do the same.”

No one spoke for a time.

And then Akira chuckled.

“Well, you two have some incredible timing.” He tilted his head to the side. “I was planning on explaining everything today anyway.”

Ryuji and Ann glanced to Morgana, baffled. The cat only nodded and stayed silent, directing them back to Akira.

Akira pushed down his grin before continuing, one hand gripping gently at Ryuji’s knee and the other resting on Ann’s shoulder. “We should have told you the day after everything happened. You deserved better, I… I got caught up in everything, is all. Pretending the Metaverse wasn’t real, that we were just regular students… That was something I needed. We both did.”

Ann shot back without hesitation. “…We?”

“Dude, did she find us out?” Ryuji echoed.

Akira smirked again.

“No, no, it’s…” He gestured vaguely between the group, trying to decide on the right set of words. “I think – look, are you two free after school today?”

Ryuji quirked an eyebrow. “‘Course.”

“Let’s go to Leblanc together. I promise nothing bad happened… It’s the exact opposite, really. I want you both to meet Makoto. For real this time.”

Ann regarded him for a long moment before answering. “What about Yusuke? He deserves to know what happened just as much as us.”

“He already knows what’s been going on.” Morgana finally spoke up, and Ryuji and Ann both stared, a new wave of confusion crashing against them both. “He was with Akira and me the other day, and he sorta guessed their whole situation all on his own.”

They looked between each other. Looked to Akira. Back to Morgana.

“Besides, lunch is almost over. This’ll be easier to talk about when Makoto’s with us! You’re gonna love her.” He meowed, rising to his feet with a stretch.

And they finally agreed.

Ryuji hopped off the desks, turning at the door and offering to walk the group back to their classroom.

Ann accepted.

Akira didn’t.

He explained – as Ryuji looked back with an expression like a puppy that just learned seeing the treat jar wasn’t enough to _have_ a treat – that he only needed to text Makoto and let her know what happened. That he would be with them again soon.

When they were gone, and the door clicked shut, Akira pulled out his phone.

_AKIRA: “Could you meet us at Leblanc after school?”_

_MAKOTO: “Yes. Of course.”_

Akira tapped out half a reply. He erased it. Then another, and another.

_AKIRA: “It’s okay if you want to stay out of this. I let them down, not you.”_

Her reply came almost the instant he hit send.

_MAKOTO: “No.”_

_MAKOTO: “They’re my family too, Akira. I’ll be there.”_

_AKIRA: “Are you sure?”_

_MAKOTO: “I promise. Now smile for me and get back to class.”_

_MAKOTO: “Show me some more of the confidence you had this morning.”_

Akira smiled.

He slipped his bag over his shoulder and returned to his class.

~~~

Makoto’s walk through the backstreets of Yongen was filled with questions.

She was travelling by herself; Akira’s text motivated her to finish every bit of school and council work before classes were out, and to take off as soon as possible. And she couldn’t help being curious. What would they say? What would they think? Would they be as happy, as supportive as she knew they would have been before? She never had the chance to tell the others about their relationship in her past life, so Makoto saw this opportunity like the result of some needlessly confusing wish on an equally confused monkey’s paw; they had their chance, but it came at the cost of death. Of tortured bodies and ruined minds. _I wonder what Fate would have to say for itself if we had the opportunity to ask._

She grinned, tilted her head up to the sky as she moved.

No one was waiting for her at Leblanc when she arrived. Only Sojiro, hard at work in the kitchen. He raised an eyebrow when she entered.

“Hello.” Makoto spoke calmly from the entrance of the shop, not the slightest bit excited or expectant. There was nothing in her voice for Sojiro to pick up on. Nothing at all. Nothing. “Is it all right if I go upstairs alone? Akira should be here before too long.”

“After everything the two of you have gotten up to, I’m surprised you’d bother to ask.” Sojiro joked, and Makoto found herself briefly flustered.

But Sojiro’s expression softened.

“I’m kidding.” He returned to preparing his food. “You’re the most important person in the kid’s life, don’t ever think you’re unwelcome around here. Head on up.”

Makoto smiled. “Thank you.”

She heard Sojiro speak one last time as she crossed to the attic.

“They’re going to love you.”

“Hm?” Makoto turned, one foot already resting on the stairs.

He called again from his spot in the kitchen, Sojiro’s go-to method for ensuring he could hide his face and pretend he wasn’t _really_ being all that sincere. “The blonde ones. They’re a little overprotective around him, but they’ll love you.”

“…Thank you. I hope so.” Makoto finally said.

She climbed the remaining stairs and took advantage of the short time available to relax. She set down her bag at the foot of the bed and sprawled out on her back.

For a time, she only stared up to the ceiling, still so completely unable to shake that feeling of excitement. She clutched Akira’s pillow in her arms. It smelled like him. Coffee and spices, yes, but everything smelled like that in Leblanc. There was something else indescribably _him_ in that pillow. Something she had never been able to place, something comforting, something warm and soothing and…

And with her nose buried in the pillow, she dozed off.

The sensation of fingers ghosting through her bangs pulled her back to reality, though she couldn’t tell how long she had been sleeping.

She smiled and leaned closer. “Aki.”

“Hey, you.”

Makoto rolled to her side, eyes shut tight and voice still scratchy with sleep. “Ah… sorry for falling asleep, the – the pillow. Are the others getting here soon?”

Someone cleared their throat.

Makoto jolted to her knees, saw Ann and Ryuji already sitting on the couch, Morgana curled up on the desk in the corner. She didn’t drop the pillow.

“Oh. Sorry.” She murmured, only slightly embarrassed at being caught as she was. “Hello.”

Ryuji and Ann replied in unison, neither seemed bothered in the slightest. “Hey.”

She took a deep breath to gather herself back together, to return herself to something closer to that earlier excitement. Akira brought his hand to her knee; he rubbed his thumb back and forth over the fabric of her leggings.

And she was back. She was calm

“I heard from Akira what happened earlier today.” Makoto covered Akira’s hand with one of her own. She looked to Ann and Ryuji with a gentle, disarming, smile. “You feel like he abandoned you?”

Ann and Ryuji both seemed more than a little surprised to hear it put so bluntly, like they expected more of a fight.

But they didn’t disagree.

So Makoto pressed on. “…Akira and I have known each other for a very long time… He’s incredibly important to me. Only, I didn’t recognize him until recently… so much has changed since the last time we saw each other.” She admitted, looking up at him and wearing a smile shining with confidence. The very same smile was mirrored on his face. Ann and Ryuji both looked even more confused when she finally turned back to them. “He was there with me when I awoke to my Persona.”

The short seconds of Ryuji working his jaw were the only warning anyone was given before he blurted out, nearly a yell.

“ _DUDE._ ”

~~~

Akira tore through the shadows like a boat through water, nothing but a sea of black in his wake.

Something about the sight was deeply, thoroughly upsetting to Makoto. Even though he was always like that. Always so graceful and elegant, so vicious and unyielding when given something to protect. But only in that instant did the gravity of his actions sink in.

“Makoto…” Ann gently gripped at her wrist as she stepped closer, as she whispered. “You’ve never seen him in action before, have you?”

But that wasn’t it. Images of him at work in the Metaverse were burned as vividly into her mind as their time together in the real world.

She wondered what sort of expression Ann saw on her face. She wondered if the unbridled rage she felt was at all visible to the others.

Because there Akira was, so far ahead.

All on his own.

Perfectly aware that they had promised to never again be reckless, that they had promised to never risk further scars in the name of protecting each other. He was off on his own. He was leaving her behind.

He was about to get a very detailed reminder of _exactly_ who he fell in love with.

“ _Joker!_ ” Makoto’s voice ripped from her throat. Shook the walls. And before Akira even had the chance to turn around and look, she was stomping closer and tearing off her mask in a flurry of wind and blue flame. She was aiming her revolver.

Three shots rang out. Three shadows burst into dust.

And she was at his side.

~~~

The bed was hardly big enough to fit four.

Honestly, it was barely even a bed.

They still managed to make it work; Ryuji was wrapped in Akira’s arms as they sat together at the edge, limbs tangled and dangling off the sides while Makoto and Ann were tucked away against the wall only inches to their side. It was cramped, and it wasn’t the best solution, but they were together. And it was _their_ solution.

“I’m sorry again. I would never abandon either of you.” Akira stared deep into Ann’s eyes, watching as she seemed to barely hold back a smile. He nuzzled against Ryuji’s hair and shut his eyes with a sigh. “I wasn’t really sure how to explain any of what happened… and before I knew it, we ended up here.”

_Never. I would never abandon you._

Tension seemed to thoroughly evaporate from Ryuji’s body at the sound of his words. And he leaned back, further into Akira’s grip. And they both fell over, bouncing on the mattress once, twice, and their heads coming to land in Ann’s lap with a gentle thud.

Ryuji exhaled a little laugh once they settled into place. “Jeez, man. I – How many times we gotta tell you it’s okay to talk to us when somethin’s up? Even if you don’t know what to say.”

Ann’s hands tangled into the two heads of hair in front of her.

Her fingers threaded and weaved, danced little patterns and twirled stray strands around themselves.

“Mmm. You can’t keep trying to shoulder everything on your own like this. Let us help.” She echoed.

Akira slid his head to the side, trying his best to look up from the mess of limbs and bodies. A gentle smirk was waiting for him when he finally managed. He reached up to her cheek, matched her smile with everything he had in him when she moved to cover his hand with her own.

Ryuji rolled his shoulders, pushed himself into just a little bit further into Akira’s grip.

Ann squeezed his hand just a little bit more.

And Makoto watched, from her place at their side. He practically felt her joy overflowing. Watched as her smile grew brighter and brighter. Like the sight of his happiness in that moment was her entire world.

~~~

The bullets just barely missed his head. He narrowly avoided being singed by the intense heat of her Persona’s attack. Very intentionally aimed; it saved him from a Shadow he had only seen from the corner of his eyes.

If he was anyone else, he would have been caught up in the blast.

Makoto knew he would avoid it.

Makoto was _angry_.

“Do you think you’re allowed to break our promise just like that?” She fumed, standing shoulder to shoulder and following him into the endless waves of enemies.

“Who said anything about breaking a promise?” Akira smirked, twirling himself around so that the firm muscles of his chest were pressed to her back.

He fired off his pistol at a pair of approaching shadows before she could reply, and he could practically feel her spirit bubbling up into another burst of anger before he tilted her head back; before he leaned forward and kissed her, hot and fierce and with everything in him. Tongues and teeth, smirks and scowls. As he pulled away, brushed the fabric of his glove against her cheek and leapt back into battle, his voice called out again. Dripping with that smug sense of self-satisfaction he knew would rile her up even further.

“I only wanted to inspire my Queen into joining me on the front lines!”

He heard Makoto’s frustration even through the roar of the Shadows surrounding them. He heard it as he ducked under the blade of a nearby attacker. As he vaulted up and over, driving his knife into the back of its neck all the way to the hilt. As he removed the blade and landed back on his feet, back into the violence all over again.

He heard her frustration. He heard the sound of her roar and of her fist connecting with a Shadow.

And then he felt it. The fire of her uncontrolled anger, just barely restrained and nearly consuming everything around her, suddenly coiling up tighter and tighter until it fizzled away to nothing, making way for something much more intense, much more controlled and dangerous. The laser focused rage of someone who had long ago learned to use their entire existence as a weapon for protecting her dreams.

Explosion after explosion rang out in Akira’s ears as he fought to keep himself safe. He caught more than a few quick glimpses of Makoto in action, punching and kicking, bobbing and weaving her way through the crowd. Punctuating each attack with an eruption of power from her Persona in a never-ending flurry of strength. Like she hadn’t been gone for even a day.

They both continued until there was nothing left. Until the welcoming party Kaneshiro’s Shadow left in the lobby was utterly annihilated.

Akira straightened from his position. And she was there. Lips curled into a smile that seemed more and more beautiful every time he saw it, and those bright crimson eyes urged him closer and closer.

“Well then, I suppose I owe you an apology.” She started, voice far too husky, full of a far too deliberate depth for the moment. And when she nipped at his nose, Akira only barely suppressed his desire to pick her up and run away to the nearest safe room before anyone realized where they were going. “I needed that. I missed this.”

Akira smiled at the heat swimming in her eyes. He smiled at their friends, standing awestruck in the distance at the combined display of their power. He smiled at the knowledge that his Queen was really and truly back.

~~~

“We met what feels like a lifetime ago.” Makoto’s gaze turned to her lap, a small wistful smile teasing at her lips. “He was my mysterious underclassman… I spent so much time sneaking glances and wishing he would look my way, hoping to learn even the tiniest detail about him…”

Akira cut in without skipping a beat. “And then one day I saw some jerk hassling her. After we sent him running – and I say _we_ because Makoto ended up scaring him as much as I did – she learned that I had been hiding a crush on her.” He laughed, something small enough to be mistaken for a breath if not for their matching smiles, light and dreamy. And the look in her eyes enough to make his heart speed up. “But I had to leave town eventually. Family business, I guess you could say… And now I’m back.”

“…Now you’re back.” Ryuji whispered, more to himself than as a real response.

Akira’s smile faded as he spoke. “The first time we saw each other after that… I never expected to see her again, and she didn’t recognize me.”

“I thought he was just a very _very_ pretty stranger.” Makoto said. “And before I even had a chance to remember who he was, I was asked by the principal to start an investigation… More like forced, truthfully. He’s still holding my acceptance into a university ransom.”

Ryuji muttered something that sounded vaguely like _That dick…_ under his breath, and Akira couldn’t quite help but giggle. He buried his face back into the blonde hair in front of him.

Makoto continued after a pause.

“The stress of everything I was dealing with almost crushed me. But Akira was there to help, like he always is. Morgana, too.” She added with a smile. The only response given by the napping cat on the other end of the room a tiny swish of his tail. “Akira helped me through it all… and when I finally realized who he was, I was so happy.”

“We took her to the Metaverse. Morgana and I.” Akira took a deep breath. “I ran into Makoto a few hours before our final trip into Madarame’s palace. She was… I couldn’t stand seeing her like that.”

“Is that why you ended up hurt that day?” Ann gasped.

Akira replied with silence. He replied by gripping Makoto’s hand tighter, by letting Ryuji pull him closer.

“Akira…”

“He explained everything to me.” Makoto interrupted. “Everything about how that place works. He put his life on the line to protect me in that Palace, and it – it made me want to protect him. Everything fell into place after that, and before I knew it I had awoken to my Persona and we were back in the real world. According to Akira, I fulfilled my wish. I saved him.”

~~~

The sound of footsteps walking closer only dimly registered in Akira’s mind. He was tired. Makoto was tired. They managed to make it to the treasure room entirely on their own, the others followed behind completely speechless. Their intention hadn’t exactly been to leave everyone behind, but neither wanted to give up. Neither wanted to rest. They wanted to stay by each other’s side, wanted to fight back to back, hand in hand, until neither could move another step.

They nearly had to be carried to a safe room by the time they finished.

Akira tucked Makoto’s head closer against the crook of his neck, and they both melted further into the corner of the couch.

Someone collapsed into the next seat over.

He let his eyes peek open just enough to check. Blonde hair. Black outfit.

Ryuji.

His eyes dropped closed once again.

“You two look ready to head home n’ sleep for another week.” He chuckled, ruffling Akira’s hair.

The breath of a laugh escaped Akira as he met Ryuji’s eyes. As he looked to Makoto, sleeping peacefully in his arms like she hadn’t just spent her evening slaughtering the entire security force of the Palace. Waking her up was the last thing he wanted to do, but they needed to leave.

And their group eventually, slowly made their way back; they emerged in a quiet alley just a short walk from the subway station. Makoto, newly awake and embarrassed all over again for having dozed off in front of the others twice in one day, dragged Ryuji off to help prepare the calling cards. Ann left on her own, she wanted to rest. Though she still found an excuse to leave Akira with a hug before she was gone. Faces buried in shoulders and fingers clutching hair.

Her way of saying _I’m glad you’re okay. Makoto is terrifying, by the way. You’re a good match._

Once everyone had gone, Akira chose to spend just a bit longer relaxing on his own, sitting on the first bench he could find.

Eventually, Yusuke found his way to his side. It seemed he was waiting for a chance to talk.

Akira leaned over and dropped his head against Yusuke’s shoulder.

“…I am glad to see you were able to help Miss Niijima with everything bothering her during our last encounter.” He said, finally.

Akira smiled. “Come on Yusuke, you can call her Makoto.”

It was Yusuke’s turn to smile then. They watched the sunset in silence, until the last beams of light began to slip behind the skyline.

“I hope it is not out of place for me to say,” Yusuke attempted to start again. “But I was worried for you. When we confronted Madarame… I have never before seen you act so carelessly. Her mental state that day must have truly affected you.”

No answer came. Akira only ducked his head and leaned closer.

“Ah. Please do not feel obligated to speak, I merely wished to express this out loud. It has been some time since you and I have had an opportunity to be alone.” Yusuke shut his eyes. He took a long, heavy breath. “She is important to you, that much is clear. And while I know that you view all of us in the same light, it is important that you are honest with us in these situations.” Yusuke paused once again, though this time only to circle his arm around Akira’s side. “I learned of her predicament because we happened to be together that day, but what of Ann? What of Ryuji? They were left in the dark for days on end… Even if you wished to handle the matter on your own, without our involvement, I believe we were owed some sort of explanation. I only – I hope that you can trust us as much as you have led us to trust you. Please allow us to help you in the same way that you help us.”

Akira’s eyes screwed tightly shut. He shuddered, letting out a trembling sigh against Yusuke’s shoulder. He knew… he had always known deep down that their failure – _his_ failure, had been because of his refusal to let the others in.

He loved them. He loved each and every one of them with his entire heart, but he insisted on shouldering every burden on his own. Insisted on carrying every problem, every plan and preparation by himself. As if it would save them from further pain, from further hurt.

And whether he wanted to admit it or not, his refusal to tell the others even the slightest detail about Makoto brought him dangerously close to travelling that path again.

This time, he would do better. He had to do better. For their sake.

Akira nodded.

He gripped at Yusuke’s hand.

~~~

Akira shoved himself to his feet.

Igor was waiting in the same place as ever. The twin guards with at his side, same as ever. He was smiling. “Well done, Trickster. I – ”

“Igor.” Akira interrupted, venom in his words. “I don’t trust you. And I don’t know why you felt the need to bring me back here other than to make me aware that you _know_ something.”

One of the guards snapped, prepared to throw something at the bars of his cell, but the sight of his glare froze her in place. She didn’t move an inch. Something shined back at him. His expression reflected in her eyes. Akira dimly recognized it as different from anger; something other than wrath or anything he might have expected to frighten one of those two to silence. And yet there she was. Too scared to follow through, too conflicted to retreat.

_Is she… confused?_

He returned his gaze to Igor without giving it a second thought. “You know why I’m alive, don’t you.”

It wasn’t a question. They both knew the answer.

And Igor was smiling.

That unsettling, unmoving smile. The one that never left his face. Not under any circumstances. Not for any reason.

“I only mean to remind you of your obligations, Trickster.” He replied. Calm. Refusing to give anything up.

“This was a minor problem between friends, there was no need for you to get involved.”

“I am overseeing your rehabilitation.” Igor’s voice quieted, as if to be absolutely sure that Akira was listening to what he had to say. “As I have said, I only mean to push you back toward your proper path. Repeating such an important mistake would _certainly_ be a problem.”

“Well you won’t have to worry about that again. My relationships are stronger than you think.”

The two stared each other down. Their tension nearly sparked and ignited the distance between them.

“Yes.” Igor finally replied. “I see that now.”

Another heavy pause followed. Igor never stopped smiling.

“And yet, I also see that you have not told your allies the whole truth.” He spoke again. “You have not informed them of your true past, neither have you mentioned that another shares in your fate.”

Before Akira could say something, before he could even _feel_ something about that answer, he was lying back in bed.

Makoto was cradled in his arms, tossing and turning, sleeptalking her way through a nightmare.

He pulled her close. Tucked her head in the space between his shoulder and his neck.

“Shhhh.” He whispered with a press of his lips to the top of her head. “I’m here.”

He padded his fingers along the back of her neck in time with the rise and fall of his chest, he breathed in the scent of her hair as she finally began to settle.

“I’m here.”


	9. Chapter 9

“Ah.”

“I told you.” Makoto giggled. She reached for the hem of Akira’s shirt. Pulled herself just a bit closer. Rest just a bit more weight against his shoulder.

“You did.”

Akira gently circled his arm around her waist.

“Even if we could’ve seen the fireworks from here, it’s a _little_ hard to see past the wall of rain running down the windows. I know you didn’t forget about the rain.” She teased, nuzzling against him and wrapping the sleeves of her yukata around him.

They stood together for a long moment, watching the rain fall against the window of their former hideout. The walkway was understandably empty; those who were out to see the festival were outside in the streets, caught in the rain, while everyone who had the good sense to check the weather was comfortably at home. With good reason. It was pouring.

Again.

Just like last time.

But Makoto let herself be pulled along this time as well, she let herself be pampered and fussed over by Ann all the way to the meeting place with their friends. With Akira.

And things went just as they had last year, right up until she felt Akira whisking her away. Off to the distance and behind a corner during a split second when the others’ attention was elsewhere; Akira promised he had a surprise she was going to love, and, she knew there was no real way he would have discovered a better spot to watch the fireworks. There wasn’t anywhere else that would have worked. She knew. She checked, too. But the look on his face was a sort of pure and unfiltered excitement that she hadn’t seen since long, long, before, and Makoto just didn’t have it in her to turn him down. Not him, not his sparkling eyes, or that familiar smirk, or even the way he squeezed her hand _just_ a little bit tighter between his palms when he asked if she would join him.

Because that was more important. Making up for all the little things they couldn’t do right before, turning the fireworks festival into a good night for them both, that was what mattered. The fireworks themselves were a truly insignificant part of it all.

She felt his lips press against the top of her head.

“Come on.” He whispered into her hair, against her skin. “We should head home before the rain gets any worse.”

Makoto didn’t bother to hide her grin as she replied and urged him forward, down the hall. “Yes. And then you can make me a cup of coffee in apology for messing up two years in a row.”

Akira tugged her up to his side before she even registered him moving. His lips were on hers before she realized what was happening.

And then he was walking ahead all over again.

He called over his shoulder. “I think you deserve more than a cup of coffee.”

“…The coffee is more than enough, Akira.” She sighed, and she blushed, and she made no attempt to hide her smile as she rushed to catch up.

~~~

Even with every bit of the combined planning and memories between them, neither Akira or Makoto remembered to bring an umbrella. Makoto was fully prepared to deal with the rain exactly as before, while Akira only revealed that for once in his life, he didn’t think that far ahead. It made their run from the station to Leblanc cold and wet and still so fun and full of laughter. A sorely needed burst of spontaneity, made all the more appreciated by the fact that _they_ of all people hadn’t expected to end up in that situation.

Makoto was still struggling to bury her giggles as they stepped inside, no doubt looking like an absolute mess to the customer sitting at the bar. She felt Akira stiffen beside her as she apologized to Sojiro for tracking in so much water. And then she _really_ noticed the customer. Her pantsuit. And the silver hair. And those cold, red eyes, and that scowl, and…

Her throat tensed, and it felt for an instant like the floor had fallen out from beneath her. “Sis…”

Sae narrowed her eyes before turning back to her drink. She took one final sip, a perfectly rehearsed action that seemed to stretch out for an eternity. And when she finished, when she finally placed her cup back onto the counter, she spoke without meeting either of their eyes. Without rising from her seat, or even bothering to look away from that empty cup of coffee. It might have seemed timid coming from anyone else, but then, Sae always did have a knack for turning every movement into a threat.

“So this is where you’ve been.” She demanded.

Her words felt like ice.

“…Sis?” Was all Makoto could bring herself to ask.

“You haven’t spent your evenings at home in nearly a month.” Her words were too calm. Like she had no emotional investment in any of it, like her little sister suddenly disappearing wasn’t surprising in the slightest. It all slowly returned to Makoto as her sister’s words washed over her; how awful things had been before they promised to save her, how terrible and vindictive she had become over even the tiniest alteration in the plans she had outlined for their lives. “I was curious, so I called your school the other day.”

_…Curious? Not even worried?_

“Your grades are better than ever.”

_That’s all you have to say to me?_

“I decided to leave things at that until you felt like explaining yourself.”

_…That’s seriously all you have to say to me, Sis?_

Makoto couldn’t speak. Sae _wouldn’t_ speak. She waited and waited and _waited_ for something to happen.

Nothing did.

And then Sae delivered her final blow. She turned – slowly – and asked, calm, cool, unaffected. “So you’re dating a criminal? After everything I’ve tried to teach you?”

Sojiro and Akira both moved at once to step in, and Makoto wasn’t sure she was ever more thankful for anything in her life, because she was lost. She certainly expected Sae to be upset, even angry, but to be completely indifferent? To not care in the slightest about anything other than her grades? That was far too much. She could feel Akira gripping at her arm. A comfortable pressure keeping her from sinking straight through the tiles of the floor. She could hear Sojiro scolding something like _I’m not going to sit around and listen to this._ There might have been a mention of family. Of not caring about blood relation when this was what it looked like, and maybe even, if she strained to listen, a _get the hell out_.

She might have heard that.

She wasn’t sure.

“Let’s get you changed into something dry, Mako.” Akira whispered as he led her to the attic, as they walked up the stairs and reached the center of the room. And she _did_ hear that. The nickname he never used. The comforting tone of voice. The silent reminder of his promise to keep her safe. She heard that. “I’ll go clean up the mess we made down there. Let me know the second you need anything, okay?”

Akira pulled her close, and he pulled her tight, and suddenly the ground seemed within reach. Hugging in clothes drenched all the way through was hardly comfortable, but Makoto needed to regain that lost footing more than anything else, and she was thankful Akira understood. Of course he did – that feeling of dread, that worry that things might fall apart in exactly the same way they had before – he had been immersed in it for far longer than her, after all. And despite that, they still had no answers. Even after all this time.

Akira tucked her head against his shoulder as she stepped nearer. His thumb was rubbing little circles through her hair.

“I’m okay now. Thank you.” She told him, after what felt like only a few minutes but was doubtless far more. Her voice felt raw. Raspy and useless.

Akira seemed hesitant to let go, but he still gave her room to pull away. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go make sure everything is okay downstairs, we can talk when we’re both wearing something dry.”

He nodded, sympathetic. But before he left, he pressed a gentle kiss to the space above her eyes.

And then Makoto was alone.

She changed into some of Akira’s clothes – a button-up shirt he never wore and a pair of sweats that she had been using as pajamas recently – and at a loss for any spot she could use to dry her yukata, placed it folded up on the window sill. They could deal with it later.

The mattress felt like a blessing, as she let herself collapse back onto it, sprawled out and surrounded by far too many blankets.

_This time, we’ll help Sis._

_This time, we’ll keep Akira safe._

_This time will be the last time… I can’t go through all of this again. I can’t ask him to go through it again. Even if we have to murder the gods themselves, this will be the last time._

The sound of Akira’s footsteps made their way upstairs before too long. If Makoto had to guess, he probably snuck a set of fresh clothes downstairs with him. If she had to make a second guess, she would say Sojiro practically forced him back up the stairs and said he could clean the mess himself. One of Akira’s hands made its way into her line of sight. She grinned and accepted, letting him help as she rose to sit on the edge of the mattress.

He took the spot to her side, sinking into the pile of bedding along with her and looking up to the ceiling with a sigh.

“You holding up okay?” He asked, their fingers still intertwined.

Makoto nodded and leaned against his shoulder, thankful for the sensation of his arm circling around and tugging her closer, even if it meant losing the feeling of his hand in hers.

“…We should probably get you home tonight, huh?”

Makoto nodded again, gripping at the edge of his sleeve.

“Can you come with me?” She finally managed.

Akira stayed silent.

She breathed deep and continued. “I… I can’t live through what happened with Sis all over again. Not on my own.”

Akira met her eyes then, and that soft, cloudy grey felt more comforting than ever as he smiled back at her. And then they were falling, both of them, onto their backs as he took her down with him. After a bit of shifting and shuffling around, Akira pressed his lips to her temple. He breathed against her skin, gentle and relieved. “Of course. Of course I’ll go with you.”

A long pause passed them by before either spoke again.

Akira was the first to break the silence. He slid his lips along her skin, and he spoke up. “Do you mind if I ask you something, too?”

“Of course.” Makoto replied with a soft little smile.

Akira sounded almost regretful as he continued. “Would you mind stopping by Sojiro’s house with me, first?”

Makoto turned her head to look, to meet his eyes, and she saw that same regret painted clear in them… He was thinking about before.

“…I know why your sister was here tonight.”

_Why she was…? What does Sojiro have to do with that?_

Makoto thought for only a moment before it all came crashing back.

“Futaba!”

Akira shut his eyes in response. He brought their foreheads together, ran his fingers through her hair, tried as hard as he could to comfort her in a thinly veiled attempt to distract from his reaction.

“I want – she deserves to know the truth.” He trembled a bit as he spoke. “I can’t keep going through this year promising to do better, and still letting everything pass by exactly like it did last time.”

_…He has the same worries as me. I suppose that makes sense, we both knew there was a time limit on enjoying ourselves like this, after all._

Makoto wriggled around in his arms, she rolled over so that they were both on their side, both facing each other. And she hugged him as tightly as she could while they hid together in that bundle of covers. Because she agreed. More than anything, she agreed. They couldn’t continue aimlessly wandering through this year without making even the smallest attempt to find answers, to explain their situation to the others, to make _real_ and meaningful changes. And it seemed they both hit their breaking point.

After a time, they made their way back downstairs. Sojiro promised to keep the cafe open for another few hours; his given reasoning that he wanted to make sure Akira could get back home safely, but he knew Akira had a key. They all knew he had a key. Which meant the much more likely answer was that he didn’t want to give Sae the satisfaction of being the reason he closed up shop.

Akira and Makoto were both more than okay with letting him hide that little truth for the night.

“You two…” He started, as they reached the door – this time, with umbrellas. “Keep taking good care of each other, all right?”

A smile spread across both of their faces as they left.

~~~

One knock. Two.

“Taba? Are you there?” Akira asked, his knuckles still resting against her bedroom door. Makoto stood to his side, gently stroking her palm up and down his back. It was a difficult thing for the both of them, confronting someone who had grown so perfectly into the role of their little sister, and not knowing whether her memories had returned. Not knowing whether her memories finding their way back would have helped or hurt the trauma of what she was already forced to live through during these past few months.

There was no answer.

“Taba.” Akira started again. “We’re not here to hurt you. You should know how Sojiro feels about all of us by now, there’s nothing to be scared of… You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, it’s enough if I can ask you listen.”

They continued to wait in silence.

And then someone’s phone vibrated.

Makoto.

She skimmed over the words herself before shifting to show Akira.

_ALIBABA: “Tell him I will listen.”_

Akira smiled, soft and light. He closed his eyes, brought his forehead to rest against the door. _Of course she’d still try to hide behind that nickname. Even though we’re both right here._ “Thank you, Taba. Alibaba.” One deep sigh later, one gentle scratch at the base of his neck from Makoto later, and he was ready to continue. “Ahh, I thought trying to explain all of this to Makoto was hard enough, but you’re something else entirely.”

Her reply came before he had the opportunity to explain himself. Akira couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

_ALIBABA: “What does he mean?”_

“I mean,” He pressed on. “that you two are special to me. You might not believe it, but you’re like a little sister to me, Taba.”

“To both of us.” Makoto cut in. She pressed herself closer to Akira as she spoke.

A short pause seeped its way through the dark of the hall.

Then another text.

_ALIBABA: “That doesn’t answer my question. We’ve never met.”_

Again, Akira smirked. “We have, actually. Makoto and I… I don’t know that saying we’re _from_ the future would be accurate. We have memories of _a_ future. One we’d like to avoid.” Three dots appeared on Makoto’s screen. “And before you ask, because I know you, I know you want to ask, we know about your hallucinations, Taba. Your mother, and how she was taken from you, and how it wasn’t your fault and how somewhere deep, deep down you know that’s true even if you can’t bring yourself to accept it right now.”

Three dots still sat on the screen.

They disappeared.

They reappeared.

_ALIBABA: “How do you know about that?”_

_ALIBABA: “Sojiro never brought up me or my mother around you two. Any of you. How do you know about that?”_

“I told you already, we’re f – ”

_ALIBABA: “Yes, yes, the future. That isn’t an answer.”_

_ALIBABA: “How?”_

Makoto was the first to speak up, this time. Akira couldn’t help but admire how calm she sounded. “Futaba. You know about your mother’s research, right? The cognitive psience?”

_ALIBABA: “Yes.”_

“And you know – or at least suspect, by now – that we’re the Phantom Thieves, right?”

_ALIBABA: “Yes.”_

_ALIBABA: “…Oh. I see.”_

_ALIBABA: “Did you know her personally?”_

Something of a wry expression slid across Makoto’s face. Akira removed her hand from its place at his back. He twined their fingers together, clasped it tightly between his own. “No we didn’t, unfortunately. But Akira is telling the truth. We really did live through another life together. One where we had the opportunity to meet you and be close to you… You were the one who told us everything about Wakaba and her research, actually.”

_ALIBABA: “Hm.”_

_ALIBABA: “Let’s say I believe this story.”_

_ALIBABA: “Why are you telling me this? What’s stopping me from turning you both in to the police before you even leave the house?”_

_ALIBABA: “Did you think through any of this?”_

Akira didn’t bother to hold back his laughter as he read the series of texts. He replied, quiet and happy and bright. “You can, if you think it’s the right thing to do. But the reason we’re here is because I have a promise that I need to make with you. The reason we’re telling you is because we trust you.”

His response seemed to catch her off guard, because those three little dots danced across the screen of Makoto’s phone for more than a few minutes.

_ALIBABA: “What kind of promise?”_

“Last time… last time we weren’t able to save you until things were far worse than they are now. You ended up backed into a corner, and the only way out was to place all of your hope in the Phantom Thieves… You threatened us and demanded we steal your heart.”

A faint string of giggles and a fainter still little sniffle seeped their way out and under the door. It was the first real reaction they had heard all night.

_ALIBABA: “Did it work?”_

_ALIBABA: “Did you steal my heart?”_

“We did.” Makoto beamed.

_ALIBABA: “…What happened after that?”_

“You needed a few days to recover, and when you finally woke up, you may as well have adopted all of us into your family.” She continued, smiling so bright it may as well have lit up the whole hallway. It was contagious, Akira could feel himself smiling as well.

Another fit of laughter leaked out of Futaba’s room, and Akira could practically see her as clearly as if there was no barrier between them. She was no doubt perched up in her chair like a gargoyle, face buried in her phone and smiling that incredible smile that had been locked and hidden away for so long.

_ALIBABA: “Is that why you’re here today, then? To promise you’ll steal my heart?”_

“Yeah.” Akira pressed his forehead against the door. “Yeah, Taba. I promise as your big brother that I won’t let anything else hurt you. We’ll save you no matter what.”

For a time, no answer was given. No indication that she was deciding on the wording for a text, no sounds coming from inside her room. Nothing at all. And just when Akira readied himself to leave, to hope that they had done enough, a soft _thud_ broke the silence. Almost as if Futaba had taken a seat on the other side of the door.

And they heard her ask through tears, not through text, not as Alibaba. But with her voice. As herself.

“C – can I ask you two s – something?”

“Always.” Akira replied.

“How – you… What happened to you? I – in that other life, I mean?”

Akira couldn’t bring himself to answer.

“Something must’ve h – happened to you, right?” Futaba was trying her hardest, the least he could do was answer. “You can’t – you can’t let it happen again, all right? You made me a promise, so you have to stay safe until you can s – save me and explain yourself. Both of you. I’m putting a lot of trust in y – you guys right now.”

Akira’s head was spinning.

But he was smiling. And Makoto was smiling. And if the tone of Futaba’s voice was enough to judge by, then despite the tears, she was smiling too. “Okay. Okay, I promise. No matter what.”

“No matter what.” Futaba echoed, just barely loud enough to hear.

~~~

Sometime between parting ways with Futaba and arriving at Makoto’s apartment, the rain had built itself all the way into a thunderstorm. Makoto considered asking Akira again to stay, in case he had forgotten their earlier conversation. But she didn’t have to, one look was all it took for him to understand. She was at least a little sure that the stress from seeing Sis and admitting nearly everything to Futaba in one evening was contributing at least a bit.

Just a bit.

But he stayed, and he spent the night cradling her in his arms as they sat together on the couch, watching some nothing action movie that for once, she had no interest in. And she lay there, surrounded by his warmth and feeling every detail of every muscle resting against her back, and managed to at least forget the stress of the storm. They fell asleep together, and everything was peaceful.

And then it wasn’t.

Something was making noise in the chair behind her.

Her face had at some point become buried directly in Akira’s chest, so she turned and squirmed and spun around in his grip until she was halfway to facing the chair, taking in the details of the room as it soaked in the eerie blue glow of the television.

“Stay.” The something called. “You’re going to wake him.”

_Is… is that Sis?_

Akira, even so lost in sleep that he was nearly snoring, pulled her back against himself and planted a kiss right on the center of her cheek. She never stood a chance at hiding her smile.

“He must be a special one.” The voice said again, and Makoto was sure this time, that it was Sae.

She twisted herself halfway to freedom all over again. “Sis?”

“For your grades to improve so much. He must be special to you. You were already at the top of your class, as I recall.” Sae finished.

“…He is.” Makoto breathed.

“And he treats you with respect?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“…Are you sure he isn’t using you for anything?” She asked, and there was almost a tinge of worry in the question.

“No! He would never, Sis. He – ” Makoto felt Akira move closer, this time. He nuzzled against the side of her neck and rubbed his curls against the spot and Makoto was suddenly straining to muffle her laughter before she accidentally woke him up. “He’s special. Akira has never asked for anything I wasn’t willing to give. It sometimes feels like he has a sixth sense for knowing exactly where people’s boundaries are.”

Sae didn’t move from her spot in the chair, but Makoto could hear her resignation. She sighed, and for a moment nothing else happened. But then she stood, and she cleared the distance so that she was looming over Makoto. There was something on her face, just barely recognizable. Sae didn’t seem to want to give up on her frustration.

“Here.” She finally said, lifting the stack of blankets she had evidently been holding in her arms. “You two will catch cold if you stay like that.”

“…Thank you, sis. I’m sorry for not telling y – ” Makoto tried.

Sae didn’t let her finish. She had Makoto and Akira both covered in seconds, that irritated expression never leaving her face as she moved. “Get some rest.”

“But – ”

“No. You’re here, that’s good enough for now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy is canceled, we're back to Slowly Encroaching Dread now.
> 
> This chapter is a shorter one, but it's one I've been looking forward to writing for a bit. Hopefully it turned out okay!


	10. Chapter 10

Akira stepped out of the library, an afternoon of studying and a day of worrying over Futaba behind him, only to be greeted with the sight of a familiar blur of fluff and red fabric flying around the corner and nearly skipping toward the roof.

He froze on the spot.

“ _There_ you are!” Morgana’s voice shot through the opposite end of the hallway. A faint smirk teased at Akira's lips. _Who knows what that would have looked like if there were still students around._ “I was looking everywhere for you last night. You promised we’d all get to watch a movie!”

Akira opened his bag enough for Morgana to climb inside, but he kept his eyes trained on the stairs while his friend settled somewhere in between the books and the papers. A familiar weight on his shoulder, if not a particularly comfortable one.

“What happened? I don’t mind having to camp outside every now and again if it means you two get some alone time, but a little forewarning would be nice if you’re both gonna disappear in the middle of a thunderstorm!”

“Yeah. Sorry.” He pulled himself out of his head for the moment and raised his knuckles to the zipper of his bag to test the waters of his forgiveness. Morgana glared for a long moment before begrudgingly butting his head back against them. “A lot came up all at once. I’ll explain everything in a second – listen, I think I saw something.”

After taking time to register Morgana’s little chirp of surprise, Akira took off only a little too quickly up to the roof.

He had to be sure.

When he reached the top, they were met with the sight of a single chair from one of the few desks normally sat scattered out on the roof, wedged between the doors and holding them propped open. He smiled in relief. Made himself known. He climbed his way outside, pushing the door open just enough to squeeze through. Making noise, just enough to be heard.

“Students aren’t allowed up here, you know.” A soft, soothing voice called from the direction of the planters. Akira was met with the sight of auburn curls, nearly as light and soft as the girl’s voice. Of the oversized Shujin tracksuit, bright red and white, and doing nothing at all to hurt the feeling that she may as well have been a bright summer sky given life. She was surrounded by bags of soil and a few stray tools, hunched over, prepping her area for work.

_Haru._

“I do know, actually.” He smirked back, leaning against the wall. “That’s why I enjoy it so much.”

Haru froze mid motion, suddenly surrounded by an air of confusion. Evidently, she hadn’t expected any resistance. Or for anyone to want her company. But as she turned and as she met his eyes, her face lit up like so many of the little flowers and sweets and delicate little everythings that made up her entire being, and her smile glowed like the sun. Like she was just bumping up against some sort of faint recognition, and whatever had worried her was washed away in an instant. “Oh! Are you that transfer student I’ve been hearing so much about?”

“Mhm.” Akira replied again.

Her smile grew, somehow even brighter than before, and she turned back to her work. “Well by all means, feel free to stay up here. I understand completely.”

Akira returned her smile, though she wasn’t looking. Just as she wasn’t looking the first time. Setting down his bag, he graced Morgana with a look of _We’ll talk later_ and cleared the distance between himself and Haru in a few short steps. He gently ducked down by her side, his elbows coming to rest on his thighs. “Need any help?”

Haru matched his look and sized him up with an intensity that Akira realized in that moment he had been missing just a _little_ bit too much. She wasn’t looking down on him, she was simply curious about the idea that someone else would ever take a genuine interest in her. And maybe it was something she remembered, maybe it was something in his eyes; the way he was doubtlessly staring at her like she was one of the closest people in his life – because she was. She owned the final piece of his heart; she was the last part of his family that had been so violently ripped away – but Akira saw her expression soften, he watched her blush, and he watched her turn back to her plants.

“Please,” She murmured, pink spreading down her neck and just barely hidden behind one of the oversized gloves she was using to cover her face. “That would be wonderful.”

“Then I hope I can make a selfish little request and ask that you not call me ‘transfer student.’ My name’s Akira.” The words came as a whisper, and they were close enough that he could see her blush rapidly burning brighter, trying with everything it had to match the red of her tracksuit. Even as her eyes held steady on the work in front of her.

“H – Haru.” She barely stuttered out past the grin that refused to leave, and the blush that refused to shrink away, and especially the distance between them that continued growing smaller and smaller with every passing second. “Please. Call me Haru.”

“I can do that.” Akira breathed out a quiet little laugh. Just enough for the air to dance along the small section of exposed skin on the side of her neck. Just enough for her blush to flare up, all over again.

They worked together until the sun began to set, planting and watering and positioning just so; ensuring that every individual seed of every individual plant was perfectly cared for and prepared to begin growing in the following days. It all might’ve seemed nostalgic to Akira, but he knew that time was long gone. All that remained was the need to protect his family from whatever might be left to hurt them. So as all of their work was finished, and as he followed Haru over to a shady corner nearer the doors, he tried to learn what he could. To know that she was safe.

Morgana revealed himself around that point, and, to Akira’s surprise, Haru was both entirely unphased by his existence and unspeakably excited for the opportunity to pet him.

“Thank you again for the help, I doubt I could have finished all of this today on my own!” Haru grinned, light and fluffy, like everything else about her, as she gently scratched her nails along Morgana’s back, orchestrating a truly impressive show of purring.

Akira, like always, found himself swept up in her rhythm. He could only smile in return.

“You’re very good at this, by the way. Don’t think I didn’t notice you holding back just so you could ask me more questions. Can I ask where you learned so much about gardening?” She continued, eyes still glued to Morgana as he purred and yawned and snuggled into even more comfortable positions in her lap.

“Ah…” Akira chuckled softly to himself as he leaned his head against the wall, turning back to her with a sleepy little look. “An old friend taught me everything I know. You remind me a lot of her, actually.”

“Oh? What is she like?”

Akira’s phone started vibrating. He ignored it.

“Mmm. She’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. But she rarely lets that side of herself out… most of the time she’s all flowers and sunshine, and more pink than you’d think was possible for one person to own.” Akira teased, and Haru let loose a stray giggle at the way he was reminiscing. She’s one of those people who you can just… _tell_ , after a single glance that they’re destined for great things. I couldn’t tell you how much time we spent together working for the sake of her future.”

Haru scooted closer, turned herself toward Akira so that she was watching him in profile. “She sounds lovely.”

Again, someone texted Akira.

“She is.” Akira whispered. He leaned his head just a little bit closer and allowed himself the chance to stare into her eyes. “She really is.”

Haru was stunned to silence. Either by his answer or the mysterious something she seemed to be looking for, as she gazed back at him. And after a time, after still more conversation and empty flirting, Akira’s phone made itself known one final time, and he relented. He smirked and reached over to its place nestled away in the pile of his school blazer, to see what he missed. And after he unlocked everything and sat at the home screen, he pretended the small gasp from Haru wasn’t directed at something she noticed on the screen. Even though he knew it was. Even though he knew she was looking. He pretended that she hadn’t just recognized the Metaverse icon, because that implication was something he couldn’t bring himself to handle right now. The idea that she had access to the Metaverse, or worse, that she had been inside – all alone – was too much to accept. So instead, he filed that bit of information away at the front of the list of his unending worries.

“Oh, one second.” He managed to push past his steadily drying throat, once he finally realized who had messaged him.

_MAKOTO: “Have you gone home yet?”_

_MAKOTO: “I was hoping to see you.”_

_MAKOTO: “…Akira?”_

_AKIRA: “Sorry! Sorry!! I’m up on the roof.”_

_MAKOTO: “Oh!”_

_MAKOTO: “I’ll be up shortly.”_

Akira fumbled his phone into his pocket and turned back to Haru. She spoke up quickly; refused to even give Akira the opportunity to apologize for taking the time to answer his phone.

“I certainly kept you from answering long enough, please don’t feel guilty.” She nudged him with her shoulder as she teased.

He was thankful for that.

“Now… I truly am sorry for sneaking a look, but…” She sounded nervous. Akira’s entire mouth had dried, now. And then Haru seemed to reconsider; she paused, retreated back into herself for a small moment, and then settled on a question that must have seemed much safer. “Was that the student council president? Do you have to give her updates on your daily behavior, by chance?”

It was obviously not what she wanted to ask, and the sudden shift in the mood left Akira with no option other than to laugh small airy little laughs.

“No no, she’s uh…” He tried to come up with the words.

And then Makoto was there, peeking in through the doors and sitting down next to them both. Placing a hand on the back of his neck. “I’m his partner.”

Haru seemed to rush between a number of emotions in response. Surprise at Makoto’s perfect timing in joining the conversation, and completely overwhelming joy over the sight in front of her were the last that Akira could make out.

“Oh! My gosh! How did you two meet? What a wonderful couple you make.” She cheered, both hands brought together in front of her face in a completely ineffectual attempt to hide her smile. “The model student and the bad boy…”

Morgana snorted at that.

Makoto and Akira both smirked between themselves, and the three of them sat together doing nothing more than talk. They talked about themselves, they asked Haru about herself – not out of any particular need to learn more about her, but because they missed their friend. Because they wanted to know that she was still safe – and while she was exactly as secretive as they would have expected, she _did_ reveal enough for them to know that things with Sugimura had not yet escalated. Neither had the situation with her father.

They could at least know that there was time to help Futaba.

“You know…” Haru spoke up, expertly dodging some meaningless question that she no doubt felt was too personal to answer for people she had just met. “If I didn’t know any better I might think you two were trying to get information out of me.”

Akira and Makoto exchanged looks in silence.

“I’m just kidding, I’m sorry to tease. I couldn’t help it.” She continued, bubbly and giggling and hands still comfortably at work petting Morgana through his nap. “Something about you two just feels so welcoming and safe and… Oh! Imagine if we knew each other in another life, how romantic that would be!”

They both matched every bit of joy in her smile. And they would have continued talking and bonding and spending their time together; even offering to move to Leblanc if Haru agreed with the idea, but she was pulled away for something important. She insisted everything was okay, that there was no need to worry and it was only a little family issue, and they knew that it was true. But before she left, Haru asked to exchange numbers with the both of them, and they all promised to keep in contact.

“I’m glad she’s doing so well.” Makoto commented idly, once Haru had gone off on her own. Once the two of them were alone, walking to the station. When Akira didn’t answer, she continued. “We won’t let things end up like they did before, Akira.”

“…Yeah.” He replied, eyes averted.

Makoto came to a stop. She grabbed Akira by the wrists and she stared deep, deep into his eyes. “For her _or_ for you.”

And she didn’t need to say the rest. Those few unspoken words. Because Akira understood. They couldn’t let _him_ win this time.

A sigh worked its way past Akira’s lips. He nodded, silently. The motion was hesitant at first, but then accepting, and he pulled her close. He nuzzled his nose in her hair. “Yeah. This time has to be different.”

“It _will_ be different, Aki.”

Still, he scolded himself as they resumed their trip to the station. He could understand not being able to say Makoto’s name during those months when everything was at its worst, when all he had to hold on to was the knowledge that he had broken his promise and betrayed her.

But… _him_ …

He was different. The one who destroyed everything. The one who welcomed himself into Akira’s heart. The one who joked and teased in a way that was so thoroughly different from his public persona; so unlike all the fake smiles and the fake laughter and the fake every little thing; as if he truly felt safe when they were together. As if Akira honestly meant something to him. But then he burned it all down. He forced Akira to watch, drugged and chained up and fresh out of being tortured in the middle of an interrogation room. Akira didn’t owe him an ounce of sympathy. He knew that. It should be so easy to say his name. To curse him. To promise that they would take their revenge. And yet…

_“Have you finally pieced it all together?”_

A gust of wind brushed along Akira’s forehead. Against the exact place he had felt the barrel of a gun, so many months ago. He shivered all the way to the bone. Inched himself closer to Makoto’s warmth.

_This time will be different._

_We have the upper hand, now… it has to be different._

“…Haru recognized the Metaverse app.” He finally said.

~~~

The train ride home was fairly packed, which thankfully served as more of a balm to Akira’s thoughts than the alternative. He was allowed the chance to feel invisible, and Morgana was still there, asleep in his bag. Makoto was still there, a wonderful comfort at his side. She calmed him down in an instant, reassured that there was nothing to be done about Haru recognizing the app. No matter whether it was some innocent reason like a specific memory that brought the other world to the edges of her consciousness, or even something more sinister, they could never abandon Futaba after taking the steps they had. And the Palaces they were each tied to were worst-case scenarios when it came attempting anything on their own.

Which meant all they could do was hurry. All they could do was hope and hurry.

The rhythmic noises of the subway and the constant presence of the other passengers pulled Akira away from thinking any further on the matter.

And then he was getting a stream of texts all over again.

_ALIBABA: “Are you free to talk, now?”_

_ALIBABA: “I’m sorry if you’re not.”_

_ALIBABA: “I have questions.”_

_ALIBABA: “…About the heart stealing.”_

Akira skimmed through the messages and smiled. He angled the screen just enough for Makoto to look, and she seemed unable to hold back a smile of her own.

_AKIRA: “Ask away, Taba. We’re on the subway now if you’d rather wait until we get back, though.”_

_ALIBABA: “No. No I want to ask now.”_

_ALIBABA: “Can you explain the logistics of stealing a heart?”_

_ALIBABA: “What exactly does it involve?”_

Despite himself, despite knowing exactly the kind of person Futaba was, Akira laughed. Once. That was all he managed to get away with.

_ALIBABA: “I heard that. Don’t forget I have your phone bugged, future-man.”_

Makoto let her head fall against Akira’s shoulder at that, and they watched the screen together just as they had the night before. Akira could feel the stress of the day evaporating away from Makoto as she read, as she grinned and hummed at every new message.

_AKIRA: “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten.”_

_AKIRA: “We’re going to need to have a talk about the ones you hid away in my room at some point.”_

_ALIBABA: “Ugh.”_

_ALIBABA: “I stopped listening to those forever ago. You’re too horny!”_

_ALIBABA: “All of you!”_

A burst of poorly covered and not even remotely embarrassed giggles came from Makoto’s direction.

_ALIBABA: “…You know.”_

_ALIBABA: “I still don’t know if I believe your time travel story, but you two are really easy to talk with. I haven’t been able to do this with anyone but Sojiro in a long time.”_

“Mmm.” Makoto started, wrapping herself around Akira’s arm. “You should ask her again if it would be okay to speak in person, Aki. We’re almost there.”

_AKIRA: “Did you hear that?”_

_ALIBABA: “Yes.”_

_ALIBABA: “Honestly, I’m a little nervous about talking face to face again… But I’ve been keeping tabs on you long enough to know this isn’t some sort of trap.”_

_ALIBABA: “Will it really be easier to explain like that?”_

_AKIRA: “So much easier. We can even tell stories about the time we spent with you, when we’re finished.”_

Akira watched Futaba try for a number of minutes – long enough for them to have arrived at their platform – to find her answer. She typed something and erased it, typed something else and erased that as well. And when Akira took his first step off the train, she finally worked up the courage to hit send.

_ALIBABA: “I trust you both.”_

~~~

“Futaba?” Makoto called, as they slipped through the halls.

After a quick stop at Leblanc to drop off their school bags, and more importantly to drop off Morgana – who had been nearly pet into a coma and wanted nothing more than to nap in his bed – Akira and Makoto left to have their conversation with Futaba. The door was left unlocked for their second visit, and the countless little strands of light leaking out of Futaba’s room were the only evidence anyone was even home. “Futaba, we’re here.”

She readied herself to knock, to try a third time, but the door slowly creaked open. Not enough for them to enter, and not enough for Futaba to leave, but enough that they could hold something close enough to a real conversation.

“Is… is this okay?” Asked Futaba, sitting on the floor and leaning up against the wall just to the side of her door.

Akira took a seat, leaving open the spot opposite where she must have been sitting. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes with a sigh before looking back up at her. Before offering his hand and the space at his side. His little way of reminding that she mattered just as much in Futaba’s mind. That Futaba needed her big sister more than ever. Makoto joined him with a smile.

“It’s perfect. Whatever you’re comfortable with is more than okay.” Makoto whispered, and a small, almost inaudible sound escaped from the room.

That tiny noise Futaba made whenever she was somewhere in between happy and embarrassed.

“S – so… I had questions.” Futaba began again, shaky and trembling, but the old her was still shining through in every word. Every syllable. “What does – what’s having your heart stolen like?”

And so they explained. In vivid detail, they told Futaba about everything. The Metaverse, Personas, Shadows, about what their adventures in previous Palaces had been like, about what _made_ a Palace and every single little detail that they could remember about every single little thing. Palace Rulers, Treasure, the purpose behind the calling cards. Akira chimed in at times to fill in the gaps in Makoto’s knowledge. And eventually all that remained, all they could think to tell, were the stories of their awakenings. Akira recalled what his had been like – because, Makoto learned, he had been given this second chance with all of his previous abilities intact – and Futaba soaked up every single word like nothing else in the world mattered. She giggled and gasped and acted like every bit of the Futaba that was buried somewhere deep inside. She reacted identically to the story of Makoto’s awakenings, so excited and impressed and bubbling with childish admiration.

It was hesitant, and it wasn’t fully there, but Makoto could hear it in every breath of laughter; every stray giggle and every follow-up-to-a-follow-up question, that Futaba was happy. That she was healing.

“You’re so b – brave…” She breathed, like she wasn’t even aware she was saying the words. “All of it really is just like my mom’s research says… You two are incredible.”

Makoto turned her head toward the door. “What about you? Don’t forget that you were one of us too, Futaba.”

She didn’t reply after that, and that tiny satisfied squeak was the only indication she had even been listening.

Eventually, Futaba worked up the courage to ask about herself; her own Persona, and what she was like in that other time. Makoto told the story of her strange awakening, and the even more unusual Palace that she had locked her heart behind. Futaba was entranced. That they were describing every inch of the guilt and the worries that she had let bury her was a realization she seemed to have no idea what to do with other than to continue asking for more.

And then Akira spoke up. And both Makoto and Futaba sat in awestruck silence as he described their time together. The promise list, and the late nights spent doing nothing but eating pizza and playing old video games. The days spent wandering around the city, looking for their newest adventure. How Futaba wanted head pats as her reward for coming out of her shell, because that was how her mother praised her. He reminisced on the time Futaba worked up the courage to travel to Akihabara all on her own. How, even if she ended up running out of steam and nearly getting in trouble with the police moments before he managed to catch up, she was still incredibly brave. And he was still incredibly proud of her. He talked about how far Futaba came over their time together. And yet, it wasn’t the story itself that had them clinging to every word; it was certainly impressive, Futaba’s recovery would _always_ be impressive. The part they had chosen to latch onto was the way that he spoke; Akira wore his heart on his sleeve when it came to any of them, but even more so with Futaba. She was his little sister. The one who asked for his help in crawling out of the darkness and learning all over again how to stand on her own two feet. The one who asked him to be there, every step of the way. Even now, he spoke as if it had all happened just yesterday.

It brought Makoto near to tears, and Futaba completely over the edge. She cried for the her that used to be. For the her that they knew and for the her that existed now.

Makoto watched Akira slowly rise to his feet. She watched as he stepped over to the door.

“Taba?” He whispered gently. “Can I come in?”

She didn’t answer. Her sniffling continued, and Akira remained perfectly still. He made absolutely no move to push further.

And then Makoto heard shuffling from inside. She heard what must have been a step. Then another. The door was pulled open just a bit more, and suddenly, there was Futaba, tears streaking down her face and frail little body trembling so hard it looked like she might shatter to pieces as she looked up to Akira. Even with that familiar determination in her eyes and her hand clutching tight to the doorknob.

Still, Akira didn’t move.

But he smiled.

“Hey there.” He smiled so brightly that Makoto nearly forgot to breathe; nearly forgot that she was still sitting on the floor in someone else’s house.

Makoto watched as Futaba sniffled, as she shook, and then she threw herself forward and clenched her arms tight around Akira’s sides as her tears turned into howls. She bawled into the fabric of his shirt, and he let her. Silently, patiently, he held her there, protected her with his hands and with his arms. He let her work through it all as she clung to him. Just as he always had. Just as he always would. And when she finally climbed her way through the worst of it; when her breath steadied, and her shaking lightened, she turned to face Makoto, a question in her eyes.

“Come here.” Makoto opened her arms, and Futaba collapsed to her knees, fell forward into the embrace. She clung to her just as she had with Akira, and Makoto pulled her closer, soothing as best she could. She cooed little whispers of _Shh, you’re okay, Futaba. We’re here_. _We’re not going anywhere._ as she combed her fingers through that head of silky orange hair. As she brushed up and down her back and comforted as best she could.

“Will it hurt?” Futaba finally asked, long after the tears had stopped, long after Akira had returned to join them on the floor. “Will having my heart stolen… is it going to hurt?”

Makoto hummed, still fussing, and pampering, and combing through Futaba’s hair; twirling stray strands around her fingers with one hand and scratching up and down her back with the other. “We’ll do everything in our power to make sure that it doesn’t.”

“…Promise?”

Makoto eyed Akira, and she knew there was no need to ask.

“Promise.” He said, confident and smiling that beautiful smile of his. A source of light to help guide Futaba forward once again.

“Promise.” Makoto agreed.

“Okay… Then… I – I want you to…” Futaba tried, but it seemed to be just a step too far. And that was okay. Makoto held her just a little bit closer.

“I mean if – if you can…”

“It’s okay, don’t forget to breathe.” Makoto whispered as softly as she could. “Would you like to come with us, Futaba?”

Futaba nodded hesitantly against her collar, and they returned to their comfortable silence.

“What are the others like?” Came Futaba’s next question.

Makoto giggled, and pressed a small kiss to the top of her head. “You’ve been listening in on us, you already know, don’t you?”

“Well yeah, but…” Futaba mumbled, hesitant, and buried her face into Makoto’s shoulder. “I just want to know if they’ll b – be as nice as you two.”

~~~

“Seems like everyone’s finally here.” Akira whispered.

Makoto traced the backs of her fingers along Futaba’s cheek as she held her, still cradled in her arms. “Are you ready?”

Futaba took a deep breath, trying to gather her courage. She nodded.

“Y…yeah”

Makoto’s hand moved higher, and she brushed through Futaba’s hair exactly like she used to. She petted and doted until Futaba was practically cooing, and beaming from ear to ear. Exactly like she used to.

She smiled, and she blushed, and she clung to the front of Makoto’s shirt.

“Everything will be okay, Taba.” Akira reassured.

A small laugh escaped, and her reply came more confident than anything else they had heard that evening. Even a little smug. “Yeah. You promised, after all.”

No one spoke any further as they left the house. And the moment the front door swung open, there was her family that she didn’t remember, her friends that she didn’t recognize and that didn’t recognize her, watching and waiting and allowing her the right to move first. To talk first. She didn’t take the opportunity though, and instead chose to hide behind Makoto, clutching onto the hem of her skirt and turning her eyes to the ground.

Ann tried to save the moment without missing a beat. She stepped forward, close enough to speak but not enough to startle. “Hi! You must be Futaba.”

Futaba only nodded, and shrunk just a bit further into her hiding place behind Makoto. A gentle hand on her shoulder followed by an even gentler push gave her the courage to step back out.

Makoto smiled as she moved. As she met her expectant stare. “You’re doing great.”

With another nod, Futaba shut her eyes and took her deepest breath yet. She pulled away from Makoto’s side and looked to Ann. She looked to the group. And then back to Akira.

“I’m ready.” She mumbled.

Akira pulled out his phone. The Metaverse app flared to life.


	11. Chapter 11

A pyramid slowly faded into view. Swirling browns and oranges, yellows and reds and even stray rivers of purples danced back and forth as they each settled into their proper places. All of it framed and surrounded by a sea of blue; a cloudless sky, empty of even the smallest evidence of cover from the sun.

And that was all.

No desert. No city, that small oasis surrounding and serving as the final wall of security for the tomb of Futaba’s heart. No impossibly long drive. None of it. Instead, there was a pyramid. A tomb. Every bit as large as Akira remembered. Every bit of the imposing, intimidating prison it had always been. And that was all. They were surrounded by fog; a barrier of white holding them there and urging them forward. It was as if Futaba’s heart had welcomed them in and was silently, without words – because it could not speak words – pleading for their help. As if Futaba had grasped onto the hope that they represented with both hands. As if she clutched it tightly in her palms with every bit of strength inside her for the possibility that she might finally be free.

And that possibility must have been what finally loosened her grip on Makoto’s skirt. The skirt which was undeniably still a skirt, and not a second layer of leather; studded along all of her most vulnerable points and clinging tightly to the rest.

None of them were in their Thief outfits. Her heart recognized this as a good thing.

Futaba let go completely, walked forward only two steps closer to the imposing flight of stairs and turned back to Makoto. She grinned, only a _little_ nervous, a _little_ hesitant, and said something that brought out one of Makoto's most gorgeous smiles in return.

Akira watched the scene play out from his place some distance away, his head tucked against both Ann and Ryuji’s shoulders and buried between their own faces; the three of them pressed together and stepping back and forth in unison. Swaying from step to synchronized step like some strange sort of sculpture being blown around in the wind. Like the last pieces of hurt had finally been treated and washed clean and all that remained was their intense and all-consuming form of love.

“This couldn’ta been an easy one t’ open up about, man.” Ryuji murmured against his ear, low and relieved and _happy_. “Especially with how ya get when it comes t’ helping people.”

Ann brushed her lips along Akira’s temple and continued where Ryuji left off. “Thank you for involving us from the start this time. Thank you for not shutting us out.”

Akira pulled them closer in response, and he kissed them both. Ryuji square on the center of his forehead and Ann in the same place she had just finished kissing him.

“I love you. Both of you. I’m sorry f – ”

“Nuh uh.” Ann cut in, with a card of her fingers through his hair. “I love you too. So much. But no more apologizing. We’re all gonna be more up front about our feelings on this stuff from now on, and that’s that. Okay? No more misunderstandings means no more apologies.”

“Damn straight.” Ryuji snorted. “We love ya too much to be okay with how often we’re all screwin’ up all the easy parts of this thing we got.”

Akira buried his grin against Ann’s neck. And if Ann let out a squeal that was just a bit too loud at the feeling of his teeth brushing against her skin, none of the others made a comment.

“…Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

After a few more moments spent holding each other, they separated at Ryuji’s insistence. Though, he kept his hand on Akira’s shoulder. “Now come on, we took enough time away from th’ star of today’s show, go ‘n see her.”

Akira covered Ryuji’s hand with his own, and when Ann brought hers to cradle his cheek, Akira raised his other to cover hers as well. He looked between them, stared deep into their eyes.

And he nodded.

“This – it’s different from what you described.” Futaba began to mumble, after Akira returned to his place with her and Makoto. She grasped at the hem of his shirt and directed her gaze to the ground. “…But it still feels right. I think y – you helped me a little already.”

“Well then.” He ruffled her hair and smirked that knowing smirk of his when she nearly jolted up to meet his eyes. “I guess we better finish the job, huh, Taba?”

She hummed in agreement, the faint beginnings of a smile toying at the corners of her mouth as she wriggled his fingers out of her hair and clasped his palm between both of her own.

~~~

The inside of the pyramid appeared nearly identical to their first visit. Thankfully. Unfortunately. Akira wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that detail. For so much to have changed externally, and yet _only_ externally, he wondered if Futaba was right. If they really had managed to help after all. She would know best, but _still._ The question stayed with him until they reached the bottom of the massive corridor at the entrance. Futaba’s Shadow was already standing – hovering – in the center of the place, surrounded by massive coffins and crumbling brick. Ready and waiting to greet them all. Futaba shrunk once again behind Makoto at the sight.

“You are finally here. The ones who promised to steal our heart.” The Shadow, dressed in ill-fitting robes and covered in oversized jewels, looked to every one of them individually as she spoke. She directed her gaze then to Futaba, and with an outstretched hand she continued. “If we are to succeed in this, you will need to confront the truth of your past. Do you think you are capable of that? Can you convince yourself as well as these strangers have convinced you?”

Futaba shook. She clenched her eyes closed, and then she stopped. She took a deep breath; so deep that she even started bending backward, and when that exhale was finally ready, she looked up to Makoto. To him. And Akira knew that she finally, truly understood what it meant to have them there, ready to support her. Futaba stepped out from her hiding place, newly resolved for what was to come. “Y – yes. As long they’re with me.”

Her shadow smirked.

The floor fell out from beneath the others.

Only Futaba, Makoto, and Akira remained, held floating in the air by whatever powers the Shadow commanded. She trapped them there, weightless and helpless, until the mechanism in the trap door returned to its original position. And once they could stand on their own two feet again, Makoto and Akira moved completely on instinct, without so much as a thought to place themselves between Futaba and her Shadow.

In the end, it proved unnecessary. The Shadow simply smiled again at them both, genuine and almost a little thankful to have seen how that moment played out. Like she only wanted to confirm for herself that they cared. She reached forward and grasped Futaba by the shoulders. Her arms turned to nothing, as if she were only an illusion, as she reached past the two bodies between them.

Futaba stiffened.

Her shadow disappeared in a flash of light.

And she collapsed.

~~~

Two years earlier, Futaba watched her mother jump into traffic.

Almost immediately after, before she was allowed even a full day of mourning, came a string of accusations from every family member and relative that she knew, and even more she did not, claiming that she was the cause. That even if her hands themselves hadn’t been the reason, she had certainly pushed her mother to that point; because, they asked, full of venom and fury, what else could it have been? What other excuse could there be for someone like Wakaba to end up where she did? Wakaba was so well off, she had so much money and so much potential – to make even more money – what could the reason possibly have been other than her child?

It wasn’t Futaba’s fault of course, no matter how much effort was put toward convincing her that it was the case. But even still, the effort paid off in the end. She lived through day after day, month after month, believing that she was the reason her mother was gone. Futaba flitted from family to family, house to house, custody falling down and bouncing across nearly every branch of her family tree. Further and further down into the dark. Until it seemed that there would never be any escape. All because of her family's greed.

All because of those men; those perfectly groomed strangers in perfectly tailored suits. They wanted what her mother had. They did this to her.

And then Sojiro, her mother’s closest friend, reached out and offered her stability.

He hadn’t helped her climb back up, hadn’t helped her reach the light, and she knew he would always feel too guilty over being unable to stop what happened to do so. But he still managed to gift Futaba a small fragment of that light; just enough that she could hold it close to her chest, to keep her company and give her comfort.

For a time, that was enough. That was all she needed and all she wanted. Even with the hallucinations that haunted her – voices and visions clawing their way through the darkness in an attempt to extinguish that light once and for all – that was enough.

And then came Akira.

Then came Akira and all of his friends. Ryuji and Ann. She listened to them from bugs planted throughout Leblanc. At first, only to ensure that Sojiro was safe. Only until she could know that the delinquent he took in was no threat. But Akira wasn’t what she expected at all. And the friends he made within days of arriving were even more surprising; the three of them were always together, always just a little too close with their too much touching and too much joking and laughing and flirting and so much, too much, all the time, without end. Futaba knew, as she listened in on their quiet evenings together, and as she read through the group messages from their time spent in school, that they had something special. Something she doubted any of them would ever be capable of explaining. What they had was bright and wonderful and so many different things. And more than anything, it simply _was_.

Shortly after, they met Yusuke, and Futaba had begun to suspect by then that something was strange about Akira and his friends. She knew they were Phantom Thieves, that much was obvious just based on the volume of texts and conversations very explicitly about the subject. And she silently cheered them on from her home in the depths of the dark. But that wasn’t what bothered her. Akira had an incredible talent for growing so close to so many people so, _so_ effortlessly. It seemed to come as natural to him as breathing, because after listening to their first conversation with Yusuke in the middle of the street – about an upcoming art show and an unanswered question about modeling – she could already hear it in Yusuke’s voice. He had become ensnared in that mysterious force known as Akira Kurusu. And what he grew to have with Akira over time was something truly unique, truly different and still so similar to what had come before. Yusuke was a grounding force in a way that played directly against the blinding, warming love that the other two represented. It left Futaba speechless; that he could be something solid and consistent for the endlessly flowing intimacy of the others to wash up against and find comfort in. That he could make those three shine impossibly brighter by simply being near. The four of them fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

Makoto was next. Or first, depending on when Futaba wanted to admit that her listening began. And she held onto every word the two of them said like they were endless little rays of light piercing straight through the dark, down to where she dwelled. There was something intimate there, with Makoto. Something that made no sense. Something that by all logic should not have been; that _could_ not have been. Something that, from the sounds of things, confused even Makoto. But not Akira. Never Akira. He only smiled – and Futaba could practically hear every time he smiled for her, even if he wasn’t talking – and reassured her that it would all be okay. That he would never abandon her no matter what happened, or what she went through, or heard, or saw. No matter what. He promised. And that promise shined unbearably bright.

There were others. Because of course there were others. There were so many others that he had grown close to over his time living in that attic that Futaba nearly lost count. A fortune teller, a doctor, a reporter, a bar owner, so many people that should reasonably have had no interest in him and still somehow ended up trapped in his orbit. Completely, inexplicably entwined in his life.

And one day, months after they first met, when Makoto seemed at her weakest, at her most confused and vulnerable, the two of them met to talk. They spoke about things that Futaba couldn’t understand because they were things that made no sense. Another world. Another life. Another time. Moments they had spent together and moments they could not possibly have spent together. And then something changed in Makoto. She was more confident. More sure of herself. And that light between them grew somehow brighter and brighter until, for a moment, Futaba felt as if there were never any darkness surrounding her at all. For the first time since she began listening, those countless rays of light reached her in the depths of the darkness. Futaba took that light and surrounded herself in it, content to let them keep their privacy for the rest of that night. Because in their light, she saw something. It was faint, and she strained to see it, but it was there. A way out. Something about Akira, something about his friends and the way that he connected with people had grown closer and closer to her over the year. It scared her. It excited her. And she thought. And thought. And thought. Until finally she arrived at the answer she knew was coming all along.

Akira could help her. She could ask him and his friends that were far too close to be friends, but that she wasn’t quite sure how else to describe. And they would, hopefully, be willing.

But Futaba never had the chance. She wondered if somehow, they had seen her as she sat nearly blinded and still so desperate to be free from the dark.

Akira stumbled home with Makoto in the middle of a thunderstorm. They fell face first into an argument Futaba was listening to. That public prosecutor had been showing up more and more frequently and finding new ways to intimidate and hassle Sojiro about her mother, and she seemed like the one thing that might possibly pull everything she hoped for just out of reach. The prosecutor implied Sojiro was involved in her mother’s death. That he was abusing Futaba. As if he could ever be anything other than a source of stability for her. Akira stumbled face first into that latest attempt and somehow answered her silent plea for help without even needing to be asked. So much happened all at once as they walked through the door, until it was only the two of them in the cafe and they were close together in his room, talking so quietly that Futaba could barely make anything out. Talking again about those things that made no sense. But this time, the conversation somehow turned to _her_. Her! They said her name. They said ‘Futaba’. And they spoke like she was family in their eyes. Futaba nearly teared up as she listened.

And then they were _there_. In her house. In front of her bedroom door. She should have been scared. They were strangers. They were Phantom Thieves! No matter how nice they were. But somehow, as they told her more about those confusing things that she did not understand and that made no sense, she knew; something called to her from just above the surface of that darkness and told her that it would all be okay. That none of it was her fault. That she was innocent, and that it was okay to ask for help, and they would be willing to wait for as long as it took for her to answer, so long as she accepted that she hadn’t done anything wrong.

They would help her on whatever path she decided to walk, so long as she truly believed that what happened wasn't her fault.

And she did. She finally did.

The details of Futaba’s past flashed in front of Makoto’s eyes. She knew what she was seeing. She had lived through it all twice over. Spoken privately with Futaba about it during quiet nights when that vibrant little redhead was unable to sleep and wanted company. But she had never seen it through that set of eyes. Not until today. Not until Futaba’s Shadow had reached inside of her and given her the opportunity to view everything that the real Futaba needed to confront. She knew Akira had seen it as well. The way he looked at her as they nodded without words and went their separate ways all but confirmed it for her.

And now she sat, leaning against a nearby corner with Futaba’s sleepy head resting in her lap. Akira was somewhere on his own, searching for the others, and knowing with all his heart that they were still safe. Makoto reminded him of their promise before he left. _No more scars_. And while it may have been unnecessary, that promise was important to them. Even now. Especially now. They knew Futaba’s Shadow held no malice toward any of them. It only meant to grant Futaba’s wish. To confront her past with _them_ at her side. The two that had sought her out; that reached into the darkness and freed her from the place she had sat perched in fear for so, so long.

Knowing the others would come later, and Futaba would welcome that time with open arms. But Makoto could tell in this calm after it all that she only wanted to have this last, intimate moment with the time she had left. So she allowed her Shadow to wish the others somewhere else. Somewhere safe.

A small whine broke through the silence, and suddenly Futaba was stretching out like a cat. Like all she had been doing was taking a perfectly normal nap on a perfectly normal day. Her and Akira were always so similar in that way.

“Hey there.” Makoto smiled down at her, as Futaba turned and settled on her back, staring back with heavy, drowsy eyes. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Y…yeah…” Futaba yawned. “W – where’s Akira?”

Makoto moved to start petting through Futaba’s hair. “He’s took off to find the others. It shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“Oh.” Futaba paused. “I feel… different.”

“That’s normal.” Makoto smiled again, and her eyes crinkled as Futaba shifted slightly and made one final attempt at a stretch before sitting up on her own, her back to Makoto. “From the looks of things, you accepted everything your Shadow wanted you to see. It’s probably right there with you now, Futaba.”

She punctuated the comment with a little poke at the center of her back.

Futaba stiffened. “Oh. Did you… Did you see that? Too?”

When she finally shifted and turned around, Makoto nodded.

And true to her word, Akira showed up minutes later sporting a blonde on either arm, the three of them laughing and joking like nothing was wrong while Yusuke and Morgana trailed behind and admired their surroundings. They ended up dropped into a safe room at the bottom of a massive, spiraling set of stairs, Makoto learned. An area of the pyramid that hadn’t existed before. An area of the pyramid that existed now because Futaba’s Shadow had truly only wanted time alone.

“Hey, you.” He whispered to Makoto, splitting away from his friends to help her up. He turned to Futaba, offered his other hand for her. “Hey, Taba.”

Futaba leapt to her feet with Akira’s support, and she hugged him as tight as she could manage.

“Thank you.” She mumbled.

Her grip just barely loosened. And her legs wavered beneath her as she began to drift off in his arms.

The Palace began to shake, ready to collapse the moment Futaba finally fell back into a deep, deep sleep.

Makoto could just faintly make out the grin tracing along her lips as Akira carried her off into the fog.

~~~

All of them were ready and set to work the moment they returned to the outside world; Makoto stayed back with Futaba, brought her back inside and kept her company as she slept. She heard Akira sending Ryuji and Ann off to the clinic and insisting _yes, it’s still open this late_ before he left for Leblanc with Yusuke and Morgana to break the news to Sojiro.

Sojiro had only one question, after all was said and done. He drew the moment out, and asked Akira prepare coffee for the group after Futaba was sleeping peacefully, and after they all gathered together at Leblanc.

And from her place nestled between Ryuji and Ann in their precious middle booth, Makoto watched Akira. She watched him, finally relaxed after having the matter settled. No longer putting up a brave front for everyone else’s sake. For Futaba’s sake.

“…How did you even find out about her?” Sojiro grumbled, but that spark of anger fizzled back to nothing as soon as it had sparked to life. He was relieved. He was curious.

No one answered, letting the pause linger and leaving the opportunity to speak for both Akira and Makoto.

“She wanted to reach out to us for a long time.” Makoto finally said. “It turns out she was keeping tabs on our Akira here, to make sure you were safe.”

Sojiro dropped his head and groaned. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

A tiny smirk from Akira pushed her forward. “But she realized fairly quickly there was nothing to be scared of, and after what happened here on the night of the fireworks festival we had the chance to speak in person for the first time. We grew very close, after that.”

“For real! She was clinging to you like she didn’t trust anyone else in the world when we met!” Ann blurted suddenly, and neither Akira or Makoto could hold back their smiles at the outburst. Not that or the look of impressed shock on Sojiro’s face. “Oh. I mean. Other than you of course, Boss.”

“Well.” Sojiro cleared his throat. “That doesn’t… exactly answer my question, but I think I can guess at the rest of it.”

Makoto felt a small pang of guilt over how easily he accepted that explanation. This year had been so many glossed over details and not quite truths, and she knew that no matter how much it bothered her, Akira was suffering even more. Soon. They would tell everyone soon. Futaba accepted their truth with open arms, and Makoto knew that the others would do the same.

Sojiro cleared his throat before going on. “I won’t ask about what happened today, and I can tell none of you want to explain… but I will say this. She was still smiling in her sleep by the time I finally made it over there.” He tried and failed to hide his satisfaction, settling for clearing his throat again to shrug off whatever attention it might have caught. “So, if you’re trying to welcome Futaba into your little gang… I’d say she couldn’t hope for a better group of friends.”

Their group smiled. All of them.

Ryuji and Ann gently nudged Makoto between their shoulders, rocking her back and forth. Akira shared a silent look with Yusuke. One that seemed to carry an entire conversation in its depths. Makoto wondered if they would always be that way, able to speak without speaking. She thought back to what Futaba’s Shadow had shown her. To the endless and incredible bonds that Akira had come to form. No less genuine for the many changes in the way he behaved around each of them.

Makoto slid her eyes closed and smiled again. She knew they would be okay.

No matter what happened or what came their way, they would be okay.

“Take care of her. It’s been awhile since she’s… you know. Had friends.” Sojiro continued, after a short time to gather himself. “Anyway, that’s enough heart to heart for the night. I’m gonna head back over, make sure she’s okay. Make sure you close up, kid.”

Makoto watched Akira’s expression grow brighter as he turned and waved Sojiro off. “Sure thing, boss.”

~~~

Days later, after Futaba had finally recovered and dragged herself out of bed, and after she startled Sojiro straight outside into having a smoke in an attempt to calm himself down, Akira and Futaba talked. He turned all of those little details that Futaba couldn’t understand; all of those things that made no sense and should not have been possible, into something more concrete. And Akira could feel understanding wash over her as he reached closer and closer to the end of the story. To the end of that year. Understanding over why he was becoming more and more vague with every new word. She understood why he did not want to finish, and she let him stop.

“Th – that’s okay. You don’t have to tell me the rest.” She mumbled, with a hand resting over his wrist. It was a familiar sort of guilt, for her.

He slipped behind the counter to prepare her a fresh cup of coffee in thanks, making sure to pat her on the shoulder and whisper “Thank you, Taba. I’m glad you’re okay.” against her hair as he passed. She giggled at the contact. That familiar, proud, toothy sound. Something so different from what Akira had heard between those stray little flashes of the old her.

And just as he slid her cup across the bar, the sound of the television reached into the edges of his awareness.

_“…deaths of several government officials last night. As of now, there has been no official statement, but sources say the incidents may have been related to recent – ”_

The rest of the report faded to static in Akira’s mind. Because there was something in that statement, something far, far in the distance pulling at his attention. His thoughts drifted past the obvious, past the details, and even further past that.

His blood ran cold. Not with panic – nothing so sharp as that – but with a dulled and hazy sense of dread that he hadn’t felt since long before. And only ever around one person. The kind that was slow to spread through his muscles and bones, across every inch of his skin. But no less chilling for it.

It was suspicious enough that Medjed hadn’t involved themselves in their business as Phantom Thieves. And the impossibly cold feeling told him that the news report was why. It couldn’t have been a coincidence. He thought back to the night he was forced to return to that prison cell. To his meeting with Igor.

The cryptic comment he had been left with – about another sharing in his fate – had so clearly seemed to be about Makoto at the time.

And then there was the field trip. Those conversations with… him. Goro. Both on the air and off.

At the time Akira had paid no mind to how intense their little back and forth had been. They were always like that, after all. It was why Akira remained so entranced with him over that first year; his habit of putting up walls and barriers to make himself seem far too perfect, too flawless, playing against his complete inability to smooth over the countless little cracks spread across the edges. It was fascinating. To be able to meet someone who prided himself on that mask, just as he himself had so long ago, and yet still so casually let slip a stray look or a tone of voice that threatened to reveal his secret, was almost too much to handle. He couldn’t help wanting to know more.

Thankfully, they both seemed drawn to each other. Unable to find distance no matter how hard they tried.

They were kindred spirits, in that way.

And on those rare occasions when Goro let the mask drop, when there was no more of the lying or the games; on those rare occasions where Akira finally managed to wear him down so that only the one beneath that mask remained, they would speak to each other with so much fire and intensity that it was almost worrying. Because it meant that no matter how many of their interactions were nothing but teasing and taunting, little unspoken whispers of _You’ll never catch me_ and _No matter how hard you try, I’ll always be just out of reach,_ there truly was something between them.

Akira liked to believe that was the case, at least. That could have been as much a lie as the rest.

It was why they were always like that.

But Goro had joked that day, after the recording of that talk show, standing just a bit too close and speaking just a bit too low, that he would be watching the Phantom Thieves and that he would _love_ to speak further on the matter whenever Akira had the time. He practically had Akira pinned against the wall, and still he paid no mind to the fact that it was all completely different. Because they were always like that.

And Akira realized now that his behavior then wasn’t a coincidence. That the meeting with Igor wasn’t a coincidence. That _this_ wasn’t a coincidence. This was Goro declaring, sure that Akira would hear, sure that Akira was listening, that he _had_ been watching, and that it was time for him to place his piece on the board.

Declaring that he remembered. That he knew Akira remembered. That he wanted answers.

Akira fumbled for his phone, fingers suddenly too heavy and unwieldy to move in the ways he wanted. He only barely managed to pull it from his pocket without alerting Futaba to the unbearable something that was wrong. He needed to tell Makoto. He needed –

The door opened.

“…Futaba!” Makoto whispered from the door, hands clasped over her mouth and happy tears prickling at her eyes. And then she was there, holding Futaba close and running fingers up and down her arms as she wriggled herself free enough to hug Makoto back. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Futaba giggled. “Akira said the exact same thing a second ago.”

“That just means we both missed you.”

"I know."

"You're absolutely precious to us, you know."

Futaba blushed to the tips of her ears. "...I know."

Akira blinked at his phone. Stared until he lost track of how long it had been.

“Is everything okay, Aki?” Makoto called, moving to take a seat of her own.

He looked at her.

_“You have not informed them of your true past, neither have you mentioned that another shares in your fate.”_

He looked back to his phone, furrowing his brow.

_“Have you finally pieced it all together?”_

Akira closed his eyes with a sigh and let his features relax. _I need to tell her._

“…Yeah.”  _I need to say something._ “Yeah everything’s fine. Just a little tired.”

She smiled back at him from across the counter. She placed her hand over his.

_…Coward._


	12. Chapter 12

_Akira knew he should have followed Ann the moment she turned and walked away._

_“Oh, there you are!” Called a familiar someone, somewhere closer to the stage._

_He_ really _should have followed Ann._

_“I’m glad I found you.” The voice said. And Akira knew he needed to leave as soon as possible. Their little back and forth while the cameras were rolling was already pushing his luck. Any longer and his memories might take this conversation somewhere very uncomfortable for one of them. “I wanted to thank you in person; I rarely have the opportunity to be on that end of such a verbal thrashing, these days.”_

_Akira smirked. He should have followed Ann._

_“Haha, my apologies. That was a bit forward. All I mean is that I learned quite a lot from our discussion.” Something in the way he emphasized the end of that sentence should have startled Akira, he realized, but he still shoved the feeling to the back of his mind. And then the man stepped closer. Not enough to draw anyone’s attention, but still enough that Akira was forced just slightly further to the wall. Enough that he exhaled something a near gasp at the feeling of brick against his back. Those brown eyes held him trapped in place. “Quite a lot…”_

_Something in Akira still couldn’t bring himself to speak, and it had been so many months since he was able to see this side of the man in front of him, he let reason escape him for the chance to see it even one more time. Akira let himself be carried along by his every word. He missed it too much. He stayed silent._

_He should have left._

_“Few people around me are so willing to speak their minds as freely as you, given my status. And fewer still are willing to be so smug while doing so. You’re almost like some sort of cat.” The man stepped forward again._

_Akira was almost completely pinned to the wall, smirking his favorite smirk and tilting his head in that way he knew would only urge on more of what he should have run far, far away from._

_“Well.” The man ducked his head, matching Akira’s smile as he did. The one person who ever could. His voice was low and husky when he finally spoke again, and a wave of nausea crashed over Akira at the sound. What little enjoyment he managed to pull from the situation was crushed in an instant because his voice sounded so much like it did that day. “That was all I hoped to say. I’ll be watching the Phantom Thieves very closely over the coming days, so I would_ love _if we were able to speak again. Your ideas are_ truly _fascinating.”_

_“…See you…” Akira whispered as his legs gave out, and he slid slightly further down the wall. He watched the man pull back and nearly bounce on his heels, laughing with an almost sickening grace as he walked away._

_Akira allowed his eyes to drop closed as he settled onto the floor. The entire day had been a return to his past that he didn’t want or need, and one that neither Ryuji or Ann would be able to help him through. He couldn’t ask that of them. Not here, not now; not when all they remembered was feelings and emotions. Not when it was his fault for staying in the first place._

_He should have left._

~~~

Akira still hadn’t mentioned his suspicions to Makoto.

He was standing on a beach in Hawaii – on the final day of their trip, no less – and he still hadn’t told Makoto about that news report; about the real and genuine risk that everything might slip through their fingers all over again.

What he _had_ done, however, was stumble into a friendly meeting with Haru. They made eye contact across the beach, and she only grinned, small and knowing, when she caught his eye. And she patted the space next to her on the bench where she sat, wrapped gently in the shade of the palm trees. She was wearing the same one piece as she had last time. Light blue and frills and flowers and her. The same oversized, floppy sun hat. He teased her about the hat. She laughed, and it sounded like sunshine and breeze, and Akira forgot about all of his concerns the moment she did. They slipped effortlessly back into their usual routine; harmless flirting and talking about their lives and her gardening and his coffee and nothing important whatsoever. It felt like before. It felt like his family was whole again.

But then Haru began to fidget. Like she had something she needed to ask. Akira knew she did, he half expected it might come up.

And their unimportant conversation was suddenly very important.

“So…” She began, and Akira wanted so badly to reach out and comfort her past the faint tremble on her lips. But he kept his hands resting in his lap. “Speaking of the last time we met… I understand perfectly well if you don’t remember, but I snuck a small peek at your phone. And there was something I saw…” She straightened herself, adjusted her hat and breathed deep. “I saw an app. On – on your phone. It was black and red and had an eye in the center of the icon. I was hoping you might be able to tell me about it? I – I’m not the best with technology, so I’m not positive what it does, or even when I acquired it, but it appeared on my phone some time before we met. On top of that, it seems completely impossible to delete!”

Akira slid into what he hoped was a comforting smile. He had racked up a truly impressive number of mistakes in this new year, and the full weight of them all seemed to crash straight into him with the sound of that question.

At least this one was giving him a second chance.

“I…” He started, unsteady. “Yeah. Yeah, I can tell you about it.”

“Oh! Wonderful!” And Haru’s smile grew even bigger. So big that Akira felt breathless. So big that the worry he wore and the shade they were in seemed completely worthless before the light pouring from every inch of her.

He thought, as he sorted the words he wanted to say into their proper order, about what Makoto told him. That they could tell Haru once Futaba was safe. And Futaba _was_ safe.

And Akira wanted so desperately for his family to be whole again.

“Have you ever heard of the Phantom Thieves?” He asked, newly resolved.

Haru giggled and draped her fingers on his shoulder. “Of course, silly! I think it would be a little odd if I hadn’t.”

A smile quirked at Akira’s lips.

_Right. Right. People know about us._

“…You don’t mean to tell me that this has something to do with them, do you?” Haru gasped, looking firmly at Akira. “Are you…?”

“I uh… yeah. It has something to do with them, I guess you could say. That app is an important part of their work.”

“Oh my.” She mumbled, her eyes wavering and settling on her lap. “So then… how does it work? It appears to be some sort of search program.”

Akira blinked. “…You know, Haru, you’re accepting this easier than I expected you would. I can try to convince you, if you’d like.”

Haru smiled again, light and sweet, and she looked back at Akira, eyes shining with such a bright intensity that he felt utterly weightless.

“I believe I mentioned it to you last time, silly.” She blushed as she spoke, but she didn’t slow down. She continued staring, continued talking. “There is just _something_ about you that feels too familiar for words. It could be the way you look, the way you talk, or even just the way it feels to sit here next to you. Maybe it’s each of those things! Everything about you feels safe. And that feeling is enough for me to know that I could trust you with my very life if the situation called for it. Letting myself believe _this_ much is nothing.”

Akira felt his lips twitch, nearly laughing in relief. His gaze drifted to the sky, and his smile grew – all teeth – as he leaned back and relaxed in his seat. As he watched the clouds pass them by. “I guess in that case, I don’t have any choice but to show you. Could I ask something first, though?”

Haru nodded, pulling away just slightly enough to give him space.

“I feel like I’m always, always asking everyone for more time, so I doubt I’ve earned this. But… could I ask you to wait until we get back home? There are people I want you to meet. I can explain everything here, but I – _we_ can show you everything once we’ve returned. And you deserve that. The whole truth.” He leaned closer to lessen the distance she had given him. “And… I think you might feel the same way about the others as you do about me.”

“That sounds simple enough. Okay then. You’ve got a deal, Akira.” She whispered, and she leaned back over, letting their shoulders bump together. But she pulled away as soon as she was there, folding her arms and tilting her head; nearly catlike in her motions and falling deep into thought.

The others always teased that she picked up the tilt from Akira, but she knew. And he knew. It was a tiny quirk she had nurtured through her entire life, and one they both happened to share. Something small and simple for the two of them and no one else. “Although, I’m a little curious. Why do _I_ have this app if it’s something to do with the Phantom Thieves? And you?”

A hand gently landed on Akira’s other shoulder.

“Oh! Makoto!” Haru giggled again, and her joy was infectious. “You seem to have a talent for interrupting us. I hope you don’t think I’m trying to steal Akira away!”

Akira glanced up at Makoto, threading their fingers together.

“Don’t worry about a thing, Haru. He has that effect on people, steal away as much you’d like.” She grinned, eyes lidded and nails drawing little patterns across the back of Akira’s palm.

Haru reeled back in shock, but that quickly gave way for another smile. Even more colorful than the rest. “Would you like to join us, then?”

~~~

Hours later, after the sun had begun to set and the other students started making their way back to their hotel rooms, Akira and Makoto were alone. They spent the day with Haru, but it seemed that even on vacation she wasn’t free of her family obligations, so they saw her off to her room all laughs and smiles as they hugged goodbye. Akira reassured her, standing in the doorway with her head tucked against his neck and her hands tracing the lines of his shoulder blades, that she would have every answer she could ever want the second they returned home.

And then Makoto led Akira back to the beach.

“Come on. It’s still light out.” Was all she said, brushing their fingers together.

He didn’t question her. He knew she wouldn’t have answered.

They found their way to a bench; one far away from others, one shaded and hidden and facing the sun as it lowered and melted into the ocean. They didn’t look at each other as they sat. Akira kept his eyes trained on the waves in front of him, and Makoto wrapped herself tight around his arm. She brought her head to rest on his shoulder.

“Something has been bothering you for weeks now, Akira.” Makoto finally broke the silence. Calm and steady and still refusing to look. “I haven’t said anything because you’re wearing that face again… and because I’ve missed Futaba and Haru just as much as you. But they’re safe, for now. And that face always means you have something to tell me.”

Akira stiffened beneath her grip. “…What f – ”

“ _Akira._ ” She cut in, squeezing him tighter. “If you want to be like that, fine. In all the time I’ve known you, only one person has ever made you worry like this. The rest of us; the people you love, and who love you in return; we might be able to make you sad, maybe even anxious, but there is only one person on this earth who I have ever known to make you scared enough to start hiding things.”

At a loss for how to reply, Akira settled for a shaky, trembling sigh.

“…Are you worried about how fast that day is approaching?” She asked, impossibly softer. Akira felt her lips brush against his skin.

And he choked out something near to a laugh. “…No. I mean – yes – always. But that’s not it.”

Makoto pulled herself more fully around his arm, then.

“Has he reached out to you?” She tried. “Does he remember? Have you been trying to deal with it on your own?”

He tensed, tried to swallow down his fear. “…Makoto?”

“I can’t imagine what else it would be, Akira! You need to tell me these things. You need to tell me what you’re feeling so I can _help_. That’s what people do in relationships.” Makoto lurched away, the glare on her face and the frustration in her words only made more powerful in the slowly dying light.

Akira sighed all over again. He buried his face in his palms.

_The blood was still dripping from his face. The drugs were still in his system. He was fading in and out of consciousness, barely managing to stay upright, barely managing to take full or steady breaths. It was a wonder he was still in his chair, even with the support of the table to lean on. Whatever he told Sae – he couldn’t remember a single sentence of their conversation anymore – would have to be enough._

_The door cracked open just as he completed the thought, and he knew without looking who had come to visit. He could hear it in the weight of their steps._

_“Ahhh, I found you.” Akira whispered, finally convincing the muscles in his neck to listen long enough to raise his head. “My favorite stray crow.”_

_The cold clack of his shoes echoed through the entire room._

_“My little lost kitten.” Goro pulled a gun from… somewhere. He shot the guard at his side. Akira couldn’t remember whether that guard had been there the entire time or not. He probably entered moments ago. It was all starting to blur together. “Now then. Shall we get started?”_

_Akira’s head dropped all over again as the muscles in his neck gave out._

_“Have you finally pieced it all together?” The barrel of that gun pressed itself against his brow, nudging him up. The way Goro was talking made Akira want to puke. So similar to the tone he had come to love, and yet bathed in a layer of acid and venom that was completely unfamiliar. “It was all an act. All of it. To learn what I could about your little group before wiping every one of you off the face of the earth. But don’t worry. I look forward to seeing what sort of vengeance you’ll have waiting for me in the next life.”_

_“You…” Akira managed to cough out, as he raised his head. As he forced himself to meet the storm in Goro’s eyes. “You’re wrong.”_

_Goro smiled. Something fake and unnatural that seemed to twist the muscles of his face in ways they weren’t meant to bend. Like there was something else, something dark inhabiting his body. Like there was something missing. “You fell for every word. Here I am telling you that there was never anything between us, and you still believe it was real!”_

_“There_ was _.”_

_The grin wiped itself from Goro’s face in an instant, and he snarled. He dug the barrel of the pistol further into the skin of Akira’s brow. “You never learned the first thing about me.”_

_Akira started trembling, shaking in his seat, and he breathed out what he knew would be his final words. “…I did.”_

_“You didn’t. And look at all the good even trying did you in the end. You’ve lost your friends, you’re about to lose your life, everything has fallen apart.” His finger tightened around the trigger with the growing intensity of his anger. “Case closed… this is how your ‘justice’ ends.”_

Waves crashed against the sand just ahead. Akira picked himself up and faced Makoto, still patiently waiting at his side, still determined to hear what he was hiding. Just like always.

“I think… I think he does.” He whispered. “I don’t know. I thought I did, but I really don’t. And that scares me more than he ever has.”

Akira felt her palm flatten and mold itself to the nape of his neck. He felt her body move closer.

“Well what are we going to do about it?” She pressed her cheek again to his shoulder and asked him; brave and confident in ways that Akira couldn’t bring himself to understand. But ways he appreciated more than he could say. In ways he used to think Makoto herself might not understand. But there, as they sat together, he knew that she did. She knew. She knew he needed her confidence. “We’ll make it through this, Akira. Together.”

He stayed silent.

“Akira. _Aki._ Don’t put yourself through this again. Don’t push us away.” Makoto whispered, shifting so that her breath danced along the skin of his neck. “…Do you remember that night we found each other again?”

“Of course. I could never forget.” Akira exhaled.

“Do you remember what I told you?” She asked, pressing her other hand to his chest. “You’re here. No matter what happened before, you’re _here._ And that’s all that matters.”

He smiled as he covered her hand with his own. “I remember.”

“No matter what. We’re here for you, Akira. All of us. Rely on us this time.” She slid her fingers through his, moved her lips even closer to his neck. He could feel her every word. “We’re here for you.”

“If… if something happened – ”

“No. Don’t do that. You don’t get to do that.” Makoto bit back, pulling away just enough to startle him. But she kept her hand resting on his neck. She kept their fingers tangled together. She was frustrated, but not angry. She only wanted him to understand, but he knew she was owed so much more. He could give her that understanding to start. “You do _not_ get to be that selfish again. You’re not the only person in this relationship, and you’re _definitely_ not the only one who wants to see you come out of this alive. So give us the chance to protect you for once.” Her eyes dropped closed, and she sighed. When she continued, her voice was level and her eyes were a vibrant red, shining with the sun. Akira lost his breath at the sight. “I know you want to keep everyone safe, but I also know that I have watched you spend nearly every day since my memories returned promising that _this time you’ll do better_ and still, _still_ slowly retreating back to the old you. With every step we take. And I need you to understand that not one of us would ever blame you for wanting to take our pain away and shoulder it by yourself, but Akira, you need to let us help. _Aki_. Let us take your hurt away too.”

Akira felt her fingers separating themselves from his. And she trailed them up, dragged her nails along the rise of his chest and the muscles of his neck, up and up and up until she was cradling his jaw. He let himself be carried along into her pace. She was right. She was always right. And he closed his eyes, smiling at the idea that one year was all it took for her to be the one teaching him. He pressed his forehead to hers, and he reminded himself of what he was throwing away.

“You can’t keep telling me you want things to be different this time and then turn around to do this every single time. Don’t close yourself off, Aki. Let us help you. Even just a fraction of the amount that you’ve helped us. Please.” She bumped their noses together and smiled. She held him trapped in the glittering crimson of her eyes. “ _Please._ ”

“I’m sorry.” Akira finally breathed into her lips.

“I don’t want an apology. I want your trust, Aki.” Her words brushed and danced their way to his mouth.

And he laughed. Akira laughed, resigned and happy. “…Guess I should’ve known better than to think I could hide this from you, huh?”

“Yes. You should have.” She replied, the tips of her fingers already weaving their way through his curls. Her lips were close enough to taste. “You might be able to fool Futaba, or Ryuji, or Ann. Maybe even Yusuke if you put your mind to it, but I know you too well by now.”

“You do.” He leaned into her touch. “You deserved – _deserve_ better… I trust you. All of you. I’ll do better.”

Makoto scratched at Akira’s scalp and held her lips just out of reach of his own. She held herself close enough that he could reach out and nip at her lips if he wanted. But she pulled away with a sly smile, reading his mind. “We’re going to tell the others everything when we get back. All of it.”

“Yes.” He moaned, a quiet breath.

“Good. That’s all I wanted to hear.”

She kissed him. And her lips were a blessing, soft and slow and all of the forgiveness that he didn’t know he needed crashing up against him in a wave of pleasure and comfort and _home_. The lingering remnants of his tension, of his guilt and whatever else might have been bothering him – he couldn’t remember, lost in the feeling of her lips as he was – melted into nothing.

“You owed me that for how much you’ve made me worry lately.” Makoto teased, out of breath, when she finally pulled away. Her fingers scraped their way down, wrapping around to his other shoulder, and she settled back into the crook of his neck.

Akira smiled, he kissed the top of her head. He wrapped her gently in his arms. “Do I owe you anything else, your majesty?”

Makoto wriggled her free hand out of his grip and flicked him on the nose.

“I want you to stay and watch the sunset with me.” But she was smiling, and that was what mattered. “Then I want you to go back to your room. Remember that I’m not the only one who’s owed more of your trust.”

Akira sighed out a chuckle as he nuzzled his nose into her hair and breathed deep. The smell of coffee stuck to her more and more with every passing day, and for the first time since arriving in his new life, that knowledge didn’t scare him in the slightest. It mixed together with the scent of her apple perfume and the faint, lingering traces of her shampoo to create something so completely and indescribably _her._ She smelled like home. She tasted like home.

“I can do that.” He whispered. “I’ll fix this.”

She pulled him down into another kiss, and the way her lips moved against his as they both enjoyed their company and forgot all about all about the sunset they promised to watch said only one thing.

_I know you will._

~~~

The silence in Akira’s attic was slowly becoming too much to handle. No one said a word  after the two of them finished their story. No one said a word after Akira added, sure that he was only digging a deeper grave, that Haru seemed to have disappeared. And that her phone appeared to be disconnected.

_This isn’t good._

“Do you think she might have ended up in Mementos?” Asked Yusuke, breaking the silence and hunched over, thinking in his corner of the couch. Morgana had claimed the other two thirds to think in silence.

_This really isn’t good._

Ryuji dug his knuckles into his lap and practically shouted, too defensive, before the question was finished. “Hell no! If what Akira was sayin’ is true, she wouldn’t’a gone off on her own like that.”

Following suit, Ann leaned over both Ryuji and the edge of the bed to pat through Akira’s hair as he leaned against the side. She knew how nervous he was without needing to look, and Akira was endlessly thankful. “Yeah, that’s right!” She said. “I’m not… It’s a lot to accept. What Akira and Makoto are saying. But it _feels_ right, you know? Especially after everything we’ve already felt around them. Yusuke practically guessed it was the case when we were all at that art show! I know Haru probably thought the same thing.”

“…Yes. I agree. If what she felt is at all the same, that would be very unlikely. I apologize.” With a heavy sigh, Yusuke leaned back. He crossed his arms and crossed his legs and somehow found a way to fold back in on himself even as he draped further across his tiny corner of couch. “Though unfortunately, that still doesn’t explain where she might have gone.”

“And b – besides, we wouldn’t have the first idea where to start looking if she was in Mementos. We wouldn’t even know what station she entered from, it’s gotta be something else.” A tiny hand gripped at Akira’s elbow with the sound of those words. Futaba.

_Please let her be okay._

On his other side, Makoto took his hand into hers and squeezed. She whispered. “ _Breathe, Aki.”_

Both her touch and her words shocked Akira back to reality, and he nodded. He looked to her and smiled. He looked to Futaba, and to every one of the others, scattered throughout his room and prepared to dive into hell itself to save someone they had never met. All because he finally told them everything. Because they believed every word.

Because they had always loved him, and only ever wanted him to acknowledge that truth.

Accepting that he never needed to hide felt to Akira like finally waking up from a nightmare. One that held him trapped since the day he died.

Futaba groaned and grumbled out a tiny little sound as she thought, and then something in her expression told Akira that enough details had clicked into place. “What if… she’s… I mean, you said she got her powers in a Palace, right? This detective guy would know that if he _really_ remembers… and, it would – if he was going to make another move it would be better to do it some place you both remember… Do you think he might’ve…?”

Akira buried his face in a palm.

_Is this your plan, now? To take them all away from me because you couldn’t take me away from them?_

“I…” He choked. “Would you all…”

Ryuji’s hands slapped down onto his shoulders before he could finish. “You don’t even hafta ask, man. It’s time to stop tryin’ to act like a prince n’ shinin’ armor every time someone’s in trouble. We’re comin’ too.”

Akira let his face fall back to meet Ryuji’s eyes.

“‘Sides.” He went on, massive grin spreading from ear to ear. “If yer gonna insist on actin’ like that, at least take advantage of the army you’ve got behind ya.”

Akira snorted. And then laughter was pouring out of him like a fountain. “Ryu.” He barely managed. “You’re an idiot. But thank you. I needed that.”

~~~

_Goro’s eyes stayed glued to his coffee. His hands stayed wrapped tightly around the cup. “I’m going to miss this.”_

_“Hmm? Planning on going somewhere?” Akira leaned further across the counter. The shop was empty, and it was technically late enough that it should have been closed, so there was no one to see his hand drifting closer to Goro’s. No one to hear him whisper in that lazy, throaty voice._

_He watched the corners of Goro’s mouth twitch up with the sound of a small chuckle. Just barely, just enough._

_“…In a sense. I’ll doubtlessly end up somewhere you won’t be able to follow me.” He finally picked up his drink, and the way the ribbons of steam stroked their way along the lines of his face held Akira mesmerized, frozen in his spot. “At least, I hope so. You’re the last person that deserves to end up there with me.”_

_Akira committed every movement of his lips to memory. His hand drifted closer. “You say that like you’re planning on dying.”_

_He didn’t answer, and Akira made sure to keep his fingers from moving any closer. He learned long ago that Goro preferred to come to him, so he would never ask for more than the quiet little conversations._

_Goro sighed, placing his cup back on the counter and dropping his gaze inside. He continued speaking as if Akira hadn’t made that little comment. “But it’s quite odd. I thought I prepared myself well enough to leave no loose ends, but here I am. Here I am, spending nearly every second of my free time growing closer and attaching more of myself to a lost kitten who lives in a cafe.” He finally met Akira’s eyes with a lazy movement of the neck, letting his head wander from one shoulder to the other. There was something heavy in his eyes. Something dark, like he willingly emptied himself of everything else. “You’re a troublesome one, you know that?”_

_“Well.” Akira chuckled, a light, breathy movements of his lips. “Troublesome as it is, this lost cat will miss you. Wherever you end up.”_

_And for the last time in their short collection of meetings, Goro let his fingers slide away from his drink. His pinky finger bumped against Akira’s thumb._

_“Who knows?” He whispered. “Perhaps you’ll find me again once the dust has settled. You seem to have a knack for it.”_

_Then Goro was gone._

_He rose from his seat and left without a word. Without so much as a second glance._

_The door sliding shut sounded like ice._

_“Where are you going?” Akira whispered into the cold, long after the door had closed. Long after he was left at the counter, all on his own._

_He looked down at his thumb. And he sighed._

~~~

The first sound heard after entering the Okumura Palace was an explosion.

The first sensation, a shockwave of energy rippling through the air, even so many rooms away.

The Thieves shared a look.

They took off running.


	13. Chapter 13

Smoke filled the entire room for only an instant. The spaceport doors slid halfway to open before being crunched backward by another burst of energy. It came hot and cold, light and dark, and it pushed and pulled and seemed to consume everything. Every sight, sound, taste, and smell was ripped from its proper place and thrown somewhere else entirely. Akira had never seen anything like it before, never felt anything like it either, but he understood perfectly. Every one of the Persona inside of him were screaming. Whatever was happening, whoever it was happening to, had caused someone to lose control during their awakening. He was as sure about that as he had been about the truth of his own awakening.

Someone was meddling. They stuck their hands where they didn’t belong; they twisted and ripped and tore until the fragile bridge between the other and their Persona was in pieces.

Akira could only pray Haru was safe. Akira could only pray this had nothing to do with Goro.

Another shockwave cracked through the doorway, and Akira vaulted over the broken and twisted fragments of metal without allowing himself another second of hesitation. He threw himself directly into the light.

“Haru!” He tried, hoping his voice might reach through the roar of her awakening. He couldn’t hear his own voice. He was struggling to maintain his balance.

And there was no answer but the continuing deafening destruction.

“ _Haru!_ ”

Still nothing.

He stumbled forward.

One step. The violence grew louder.

Two steps. His vision began to blur.

Three steps, and the nothing was everywhere before he realized it; as if he had passed through a wall into some other reality. But he knew, as his eyes took in the surrounding space, that he was in the right place. The source of that nothingness stood only a few steps away, a small image of chocolate eyes and auburn hair, wrapped in a pink sweater and huddled into itself in the center of a seemingly endless void of pure white, screaming out a silence that soaked through every molecule in the air.

It seemed to bleed out of Haru’s entire presence.

Akira stepped slowly closer, carefully but not hesitantly. His footsteps made no sound.

He called out to Haru. His voice made no sound.

As he reached her side, the sounds of her screams were as silent as ever. They overpowered even the tiniest speck of noise. He kneeled down, and at first only watched. When it became clear he was still completely unnoticed, a hand slid gently along the sweater covering her back. She still didn’t react. He pressed his temple to hers.

“…Akira?” Her lips moved silently and her eyes unclenched, peeking open just enough to see Akira’s other hand come to rest on her knee. Just enough to uncoil herself and allow herself to meet his eyes.

“Akira!” Haru whispered, and this time her voice broke through the quiet. It was so fragile and faint that Akira thought for a moment he might’ve imagined it. “You’re _alive!_ ” The frail threads of her voice shattered the nothingness and exploded outward. Her words filled every inch of that void and erased the storm around them until it all was replaced by a blinding light.

When Akira finally regained his senses, he was still on his knees, trembling and out of breath – taking the brunt of that awakening wasn’t his best idea, he realized – as Haru stood confidently to his front. She turned and offered her hand with one of her bright little smiles; Akira dimly noticed, as he reached out, that she was no longer dressed in the same outfit. That her Persona stood to his back, protecting and enveloping them both. And each and every one of the others stood at his side, ready to face the source of the danger.

With a smile, Akira rose to his feet.

With a smile, he finally looked to the danger.

His heart sank into his stomach.

~~~

A man in black stood in the distance. His clothing almost seemed like a prison uniform, striped from head to toe in black and grey, and covered in endless stretches and tears. A strange black fire was pouring from every torn edge of the fabric. He leaned against the far wall, arms folded and a sickening smirk glaring through the mouth of his mask. His black mask. In the grand scheme of things, he appeared incredibly unthreatening – such a small, frail build, completely dwarfed by the expanse of the wall to his back – but there was no denying his involvement in the everything that had just played out.

“Well well.” He laughed, and Makoto felt ice run down her spine. There was no denying who owned that voice, either. Goro Akechi. “It would seem my stray kitten has brought some friends.”

She looked to Akira, hoping to comfort him. Or maybe to seek comfort for herself, she wasn’t entirely sure of anything but the shock running through her veins. Akira though, the scowl on his face was confident. The betrayal swimming through his eyes was as crystal clear as a storm building along the horizon.

“ _Ooh_ , frightening.” Akechi joked, peeling himself off the wall. The way he moved was strange; it was as if his body wasn’t his own. He trailed behind himself in each of his motions, every step causing his head, his arms and his torso to sway back and forth in uncontrolled arcs. But it wasn’t caused by some sort of intoxication, he was clearly in far more control than Makoto had ever seen. And the way he spoke was similarly different. The fake voice and the fake smiles that she had grown accustomed to were nowhere to be found. He sounded far more honest with himself. Far colder.

_Is this because of his mask?_

“Unfortunately, little kitty, you’ve interfered with my work today. Fortunately, however, you were polite enough to allow me the time to see what I needed to see, so I’ll be going.” His footsteps echoed across the room.

They were just standing there. They were just letting him leave.

 _We are_ not _just letting him leave._

He froze in front of the door he had been waiting by, his back to them all, before whipping around with another chilling smile. “Ah! I suppose I should leave you all with a parting gift.” His gaze drifted almost lazily over to Akira, and his head dropped to the side with the movement. A single finger raised itself into the air, following the path of his eyes as he looked. He wasn’t quite pointing, not entirely, but the gesture carried a clear enough meaning. “You deserve that much for finding your way back to me.”

And then his fingers tightened and straightened themselves into the shape of a gun.

His hand tossed itself backward with some imagined recoil as he slinked further away, still grinning that awful grin.

“ _Bang._ ”

The doors closed. But his shadow remained.

It grew darker and more vivid until it appeared nearly solid, bubbling and boiling out of the ground and growing into something awful. Something grotesque and inhuman. It continued until the shadow finally began to take form; until it completed shaping itself into something vaguely human, something that might have been a person, but was completely featureless. It swallowed up every scrap of light as it grew, intent to remain a mystery.

And maybe it was something in that shadow’s transformation, maybe it was something that Akechi said, or maybe even something as simple as the stress of her awakening finally catching up to her, but Haru began to waver. She stumbled forward, her Persona disappeared in a whirl of blue flames, and suddenly she was collapsed in Akira’s arms.

“…Aki…ra…” She just barely managed to breathe. Makoto watched Akira tuck her closer to his chest.

“Thank you, Haru.” He smiled, planting a whisper of a kiss to her hairline. “Thank you for being so patient, you’ll have all of your answers once we get out of here.”

Even cradled and tucked away in his arms, her sleepy little smile shone through the whole room.

“He wants me to go after him.” Akira announced to the group after a pause. He was facing the shadow in the distance; still unmoving, still waiting. His voice was shaking.

Haru pulled herself closer in response.

“Don’t be a dumbass!” Ryuji stomped closer. “It’s gotta be a trap.”

Makoto recognized Akira’s smile. She recognized his laugh, the resigned look in his eye, and even his tone of voice. So small and scared, and yet nothing any of them could say would ever change his mind. “…I know.”

No one bothered to challenge him. They understood, too. Their entire group stood in silence for a time.

And then a wall of ice rushed forward, completely trapping the Shadow patiently waiting on the other end of the room. Completely covering a significant portion of the room along with it.

“Go.” A playful tone weaved its way through Yusuke’s voice as he stepped up to Akira. “If you can promise us to stay alive and explain yourself to Miss Haru when you come back, then go. She will be in our care until then.”

He let Yusuke lift Haru from his arms without any resistance at all. His eyes drifted across the group. They settled on Makoto, and her breath hitched against her will.

She hoped he could hear the unspoken _Trust us._ shining on her lips.

Judging by the faint smile on his as he nodded, as he turned and took off at a run, he did.

And Makoto ripped off her mask with a much louder smile. To destroy Yusuke’s handiwork, to create a path for Akira to leave, and to free the Shadow to bear the brunt of her frustrations.

“Come on, then.” She smirked, exhausted and happy and cracking her knuckles. “If Aki’s finally letting himself trust us, the least we can do is trust him to stay alive.”

~~~

“Oh.” Haru whispered, clasping a hand gently over her mouth. “Akira lives here?”

Makoto giggled and continued leading her friend across the attic while the rest of their group followed behind.

“It’s a little strange, isn’t it?” Makoto finally answered, once Haru was situated on the bed and resting in her lap. She couldn’t quite help her smile. “Someone like him living somewhere like this.”

Once Makoto started brushing her fingers through Haru’s hair, her answer nearly came as a purr. “Yes. Though, I mean! Not in a bad way!”

A fit of throaty, relaxed laughter floated over from the couch.

Yusuke stared across the room to Haru, lazy smile and a look of utter contentment written on his face. “Don’t worry, Miss Haru, we understand. It’s simply a little odd for someone who feels larger than life to live somewhere as humble as the attic above a cafe.”

“Mmm.” She nodded, careful not to disturb Makoto’s petting. But she shifted just slightly enough to stare back across the room, and Makoto couldn’t help but smile as she followed Haru’s eyes. To Ryuji, Ann, and Yusuke all huddled together on the couch, relaxed and leaning against each other like they had long since given up on the concept of personal space as Futaba sat perched on the desk chair to their side, and Morgana sat perched on _her_.

A long silence filled the room before Haru spoke again. “Is Akira going to be okay?”

No one answered. The relaxed air stiffened with her question.

“I’m sorry.” She murmured. “Could… Would you… Akira promised he would explain…”

Makoto’s fingers stilled, but in place of that attempt at comfort, her smile returned.

“Of course. And when Akira comes back, he’ll be able to fill in the gaps.”

~~~

“I see…” Haru mumbled, face buried in her knees as she sat curled away in the far corner of the bed. Makoto hadn’t left her side for a second. “That certainly explains the feelings I’ve had this entire time.”

The others stayed quiet, allowing Haru the time to think.

“…He’s gone through so much for your sake.”

“ _Yours too, Haru._ ” Futaba scowled from her seat, the effect completely lost by Morgana trying to mirror the action from her shoulder. “H – he tried to stop your Persona from going berserk without any idea how that might affect him.”

It didn’t quite have the intended effect, and a wave of giggles bubbled up from Haru’s chest. “Yes. Yes of course, I apologize for sounding ungrateful.”

“He… Makoto too… They’ve both tried their hardest for all of us, but I’ve never… None of the stories were like what we saw in there. He cares about you too, Haru. If he didn’t run off on his own, you’d know that for sure. He’d have told you directly.”

Haru’s grin twitched almost imperceptibly. She was worried. But Makoto understood, they were all worried.

“Thank you.” Haru whispered and leaned just a bit closer to Makoto. “I mean it. Thank you.”

“By the way…” Futaba pressed forward, still wearing that frustrated look as she tried to find the words. “How did – did Akechi – did that man in the black mask, did he hurt you?”

Makoto felt Haru shake her head without pausing for even a second to consider the question.

“No.” Her voice was calm and collected. “No. He didn’t lay a hand on me, I mean… I was leaving my father’s office and – and suddenly I was in that other world. I’m sorry, it’s all a bit of a blur.”

Futaba shrunk back in her chair. “N – no I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

But there Haru was again, shaking her head without allowing any time for self-doubt. “I promise it’s alright, Futaba.” Her lips quirked up into another smile, and she breathed deep. “I was scared, and confused, and nothing that was happening made any sense… I remember that man in the black mask talking to me. He was trying to convince me of something. And I saw a glimpse of – I guess it was that other life you all described. Akira was dead.”

Haru took another breath, reaching out for Makoto’s hand. “After that… I remember even less. Everything went dark, like all of my senses were shutting down. There was a voice calling out inside of me, and I wanted so badly to understand, but I couldn’t make out a word. And that seemed to break the voice’s heart. It tried harder and harder but I still couldn’t understand. And then Akira was there. Something about his presence – he – he calmed me down enough to make out the words, and then… And now we’re here, I suppose.”

“And now we’re here…” Makoto sighed. She pulled Haru closer, tucked her head against her neck and started threading her fingers through her curls all over again.

Ryuji was kneeling in front of them both when Makoto looked up. She was so caught up in whatever traces of story Haru pulled together than she hardly noticed him move. He was staring deep into Haru’s eyes, frowning with his concentration. “Akira’s comin’ back, Haru. He wouldn’t help you through all ‘a that and then abandon you.”

Haru nodded once, matching Ryuji’s expression and punctuating the motion with a hum.

“’Sides. I’ll kick his ass if he disappears.” He added, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

A smile washed over her face then, and she nodded again.

~~~

He wasn’t in the next room. Or the next. Or the next. He wasn’t hiding in the rafters, wasn’t in the offices or the factory or even the maze of airlocks separating the treasure from the rest of the Palace. Akira memorized every inch of every Palace he had seen, and he knew Goro wouldn’t have made a point to be noticed if he was planning to completely disappear seconds later.

And yet, he didn’t seem to be anywhere.

Where Goro was, it turned out, was standing in the center of the treasure room with his heel grinding down into the throat shadow of Okumura’s Shadow. He was waiting for Akira, surrounded by a chorus of choking, of gagging and even the sound of hands gripping and tugging at the fabric on his ankle.

And Akira watched him, out of breath and energy as he stumbled into the room.

Goro smiled. There wasn’t even a trace of the real emotion – of the smile that Akira hoped was real, the one he wore during their quiet nights alone – it all looked fake. It all looked unfamiliar and cold. Dark. Empty.

“There you are. I was beginning to think you might be smart enough not come.” His smirk grew, almost like he had been quietly hoping that Akira would stay away, but Akira pushed down that thought as soon as it came. Goro scratched at the edges of his mask with the barrel of his gun, seeming to consider his next words. “This was such an obvious trap, after all.”

He shrugged, and that not quite wistful look remained as he shot the Shadow between the eyes.

_Wait._

“Goodbye, little kitten.” Goro choked out a laugh, but his voice was completely level, and he ground his heel down into the Shadow’s throat one final time before stepping away. “I hoped it wouldn’t come to this. I tried so hard to protect you from all of it – _you_ , more than anyone – I even removed you from the game! I don’t think you really understand exactly how difficult that was for me!”

_No… Wait…_

And Goro’s voice began to break. As level as he remained, no matter how calm or cold he sounded, there was a barely noticeable tremble seeping in along the edges and thawing through the ice. “And you… you just had to go and do… _this._ To spit in my face. To throw all of my work away and trap us here in this purgatory. Fine then. If you want so badly to restart our game, I’ll simply have to include you in my plans this time.”

_Please…_

Goro shuddered a breath in what must have been an attempt to regain his composure – not that he had truly lost it in the first place – and he scowled, and he stormed away, fading into nothing with every new step.

“You should have just stayed gone, Akira.” Came his last, whispered words.

_Please come back._

Akira froze in his place. His breath hitched in his chest. The glass cracked above him and the walls began to break like it was all made of paper; the floor started to shake, but his limbs felt filled with lead and he couldn’t convince even a single one to move. He couldn’t convince himself to do anything other than stand in place and stare at the spot where Goro had just been. At the spot where that Shadow had just lay dying before it bubbled and boiled, before it returned into sludge, and then to nothing.

“Goro…” Akira finally managed to sigh out the name as he tripped forward. He stopped in the place Goro had been, shaking against the tears building in his eyes. “…I’m sorry.”

_The door sliding shut sounded like ice._

_“Where are you going?” Akira whispered into the cold, long after the door had closed. Long after he was left at the counter, all on his own._

_He looked down at his thumb. And he sighed._

“I miss you… I’m sorry.”

~~~

It was the dead of night by the time Akira stumbled back to Yongen.

He just barely made the last train of the night and spent most of the ride home trying to remember how he even made it out. How Goro managed to get out.

All he could remember was those parting words.

Goro thought this was his fault.

Not only had he failed to save anyone, he ruined whatever might have remained between himself and Goro.

 _Maybe it_ is _my fault. It’s not as if we have even a single answer yet._

“What the hell, kid!” Someone yelled. The voice was familiar. “You look like shit, what happened?”

_Oh. Sojiro. I must be home._

“…’m fine.” Akira grumbled.

Sojiro scoffed and put out his cigarette against a nearby wall, and Akira could tell even without looking that he wanted to slap him on the side of the head. But as angry as he sounded, there was relief there too.

A rough hand came to rest on Akira’s shoulder. “Your friends have been waiting upstairs for hours, you know. They’re worried sick and you’re the farthest from _fine_ I’ve ever seen you.”

“…Saw someone.”

Another noise of frustration from Sojiro. He was struggling, and Akira knew he wanted to ask, but he never would. There would probably always be that endless chasm between them, no matter how much Sojiro wished he could act like Akira’s father.

_I wish you would ask. I wish I could tell you._

“Alright. Okay. I won’t ask. Like I said earlier, they’re all inside.” Sojiro sighed again and wiped his hands just a bit too hard down his face. “Futaba convinced them all to have a sleepover to help cheer up that new one you picked up, the fluffy one. They’ve been waiting for you.”

Despite himself, and his day, and his afternoon, and his evening, and his entire relationship with Goro, despite all of it, Akira smirked. It was small, and it was halfhearted, but it was real.

“Make sure to let them help. You need it.” Sojiro patted Akira’s shoulder and with a nod, he started toward his home.

“Oh, and… keep Futaba out of whatever relations you’ve got going on, alright? She’s still a kid. You’re _all_ still kids, but… I guess I’ve never been against it when it comes to the rest of you.” Sojiro sighed, and Akira smiled wider. He couldn’t help it when Sojiro got like this about his little group of strays. “You know what I mean. Have a good night, kid.”

Akira nodded, making sure that this time Sojiro could see his face. “She’s like a little sister to all of us, Boss. She’s family.”

And with that, he went inside, accompanied by the sound of Sojiro’s rough chuckles and his footsteps moving steadily down the street. Sojiro would always be there to help, in his own way.

Akira could make sure to thank him, in _his_ own way.

The next few hours were a blur. Akira remembered going inside, going up the stairs and being ambushed by the group. There were tears, and hugs – like there always had been, and always would be – and they all sat down to explain. The group calmly explained what happened in his absence. He explained what he went through during the rest of his time in that Palace. He explained what happened to Haru’s father – what _would_ happen. He explained for a very long time. For so long that the conversation even drifted away from that specific encounter between himself and Goro, and instead carried itself through each and every time they met.

For so long that by the time he returned to himself, Haru was crying. But she wasn’t rushing home, or even making the slightest effort to leave. And she was holding _him_ tight, consoling _him_ through everything that happened.

And eventually, after everyone had gone to sleep, Akira remained awake. He looked to his side, his head resting against his bedside shelves as he sat propped up against them. Makoto was in their bed. Futaba was glued to his side between them while his other was claimed by Ann and Ryuji, sandwiched together and pressing as close to Akira as they could. Yusuke was on the couch. Alone.

Akira smirked to himself.

_He had the right idea. He always seems to._

Futaba tugged herself closer then, and he wrapped an arm around her.

_Though, this isn’t all that bad either._

Ryuji pulled himself closer to Ann, and Ann pulled herself closer to Akira.

And Akira realized that Haru was nowhere to be found.

With a bit of work, and the aid of nearly ten minutes of lost time, he snuck out of everyone’s arms and made his way down the stairs. Haru was sitting at the bar, wrapped up in her sweater and Akira’s oversized clothes in the seat closest to the stairs.

She didn’t seem to notice him, so Akira waited. He leaned against the nearest booth and watched as she calmly sipped at her drink.

“Oh!” She gasped a few minutes later, once Akira cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, no it’s okay. You’re okay, Haru.” He smiled like the sight of her was the most important thing in the world in that moment.

She returned the look, eyes heavy and relaxed. “Mmm. If you say so.”

Light laughter spread between them both, then, and Akira nodded over to their booth. She understood without needing to ask, and Haru wrapped around Akira’s side as they settled together and tucked themselves away into the farthest corner

“…It really hurts you, doesn’t it?” Haru asked, as if it was the simplest question in the world. And she waited. She waited for so long that Akira considered asking what she meant. “Being unable to fix the things you wanted to fix, I mean. That feeling of helplessness.”

He nodded slowly.

“That feeling is painfully familiar to me.” She went on. “Everyone told me the story while we were waiting for you.”

Akira nodded again and brought his head to rest against Haru’s. “…Yeah. Makoto even warned me recently that I need to stop trying to shoulder everything on my own. But it turns out, I… am a notoriously bad listener. No matter what she tells me, this still feels like my fault. It’s a feeling I can’t shake.”

Haru nuzzled closer, humming her way past a laugh. “She’s a smart one.”

Akira could feel her smile rubbing against his shoulder. He laughed.

“I mean it, Akira.” And as happy as she sounded, Akira could feel her tears building up. It swam through her every syllable, every twitch of her fingers against his arm. “I still don’t have the first idea about what’s going on, but I know you’re doing everything you can. I know that all any of them want – all your family wants – is for you to be there with them. That’s enough.”

Akira paused for a long moment, hesitantly working his throat.

“…And you?” He finally asked. “Is it enough for you? Even after today?”

A single, muffled sob broke loose. One Akira knew Haru must have been holding back for most of the night.

Whispering soothing little nothings, he brushed his nose back and forth through her hair. Akira pulled her closer, and the two of them spent their night together in that booth, with only the calming silence of the cafe and the knowledge of what had passed to keep them company.


	14. Chapter 14

Makoto sighed and stopped in her tracks.

Akira was still slouched over in the back corner of their booth, poring over note after note. He had been at it for hours, running through the plan to stop Akechi as many times as he could, but enough was enough. No matter how guilty he felt over being unable to save Haru’s father, no matter how worried he was that he might lose everything all over again – and he had every right to be worried – this had gone on for too long. It was just after midnight, the cafe was closed, and here she was standing behind the bar, ready to pour him another cup of coffee; to drag out his pain for some undeterminable stretch of time.

_No._

_No, the rest of our time together shouldn’t be spent preparing. No more of this._

Akira needed to rest and relax and come to terms with the fact that they would simply have to leave the rest up to fate. The entire team; their entire family helped with this plan. It seemed nearly airtight, completely unlike before. And that meant that Akira needed to rest. He _earned_ his rest.

And Makoto knew she could help him along.

A smirk toyed at the edges of her lips as she placed Akira’s coffee down on the counter, hoping it might stay forgotten for the rest of the night.

_They both jolted awake with the sound of her phone’s camera. Though, Akira’s grip around Haru’s waist kept her stuck in place, and even if it hadn’t, she didn’t seem to be in any sort of hurry to leave or explain her way out of the situation. All she did from her nest in Akira’s lap was scan the room and bless Makoto with the sight of her first smile of the day, all lidded eyes and sleepy, scratchy words._

_“Oh…” Haru mumbled, rolling her shoulders with a gentle moan and pushing herself further into Akira’s chest. “Good morning, Makoto.”_

_“Morning, you.” Akira added, closing his eyes and brushing his mouth back and forth along the top of Haru’s head. “…Morning, Haru.”_

_A low, satisfied hum escaped Makoto at the sight, and she slid into the booth beside them both._

_“Are you doing any better today?” Makoto asked._

_Haru stiffened at the question, a reaction that might have seemed like a flinch on anyone less dignified. But Haru’s reactions, even in her not-quite-awake state, wrapped and tucked away in someone else’s arms, still managed to appear as some strange and endearing combination of rehearsed and truly, beautifully natural. She relaxed_ almost _fast enough for the gesture to go unnoticed as a sleepy little grin drew itself across her lips. “Yes. Yes, I am…” Haru answered, her eyes dropping just a bit. “…I’m not looking forward to going home, though.”_

_Without missing a beat, Akira pulled her closer to him, and Haru let out a tiny satisfied squeak as his arms tightened around her._

_Makoto placed a gentle hand on Haru’s knee, letting her thumb dance soothing little patterns._

_“Just remember that every one of us is here for you, okay?” She reminded as soft as he could._

_Haru nodded, and her smile returned even brighter than before._

Even if only for the next few hours, she wanted _that_ Akira back. She wanted to see the real Akira shine through the cloudy grey that had taken hold of his eyes that evening. She wanted to see the Akira that was nothing but snarky jokes, affectionate touches, and too much love to ever be contained within one body. Today’s Akira – the Akira of the past two years of their lives, the one weighed down under more stress and worry than any one person should ever be expected to confront – that Akira deserved a break.

That Akira deserved rest.

“Aki, you need to stop.” She breathed, husky and low as she dropped into the seat next to him. She didn’t say another word as she watched Akira struggle, his mind seemingly caught between his desire to continue working and the knowledge of what she was asking. The knowledge that it was for the best. She waited and watched the war going on in his mind, and through it all she kept one hand on the small of his back, caressing him up and down. Gently, to remind him that it was okay to be nervous; that it was okay to accept that nothing more could be done. And she knew he understood, because Akira had learned long ago to read the touch of her fingertips like a silent, unspoken language for them and no one else.

Just as she had with his.

“Makoto.” He whispered, and she could feel him trembling beneath her touch. “… Makoto, I _died._ ”

_…Akira?_

He turned in his seat, not enough to force Makoto to move her hand – not that she would have – and met her eyes. They were unsteady, something dark hidden in the distance, far, far behind that cloudy grey. “I… I haven’t really given myself a chance to – to confront any of it until today. Everything’s been happening so fast since it all reset for me. But…” He inhaled sharply and looked away, then he cut himself off and forced himself to meet Makoto’s gaze again. “I was drugged… and beaten… and left there, alone, half dead in a chair until they finally k – ”

_Oh… Oh no. Oh no no no no no._

Makoto sprang forward and wrapped herself tight around Akira’s shoulders. She removed his glasses as delicately as she could, and placed them on the table. And then her fingers were in his hair, brushing it away from his face; and her lips were pressed to the cool skin of his forehead, over and over and over again. Tens; hundreds; thousands of little kisses peppered across his skin and trailing down his face. A kiss found its home on the very edges of his hairline, on his temples, each eyebrow, on the bridge of his nose, on the _tip_ of his nose, and finally on each corner of his lips. Makoto pulled away then, staring deep into his eyes as she scratched and rubbed and massaged away at his scalp.

_This entire time, I just assumed…_

_How do I help? How do I fix this?_

“What do you need me to do, Akira? How can I help?” She murmured, the words floating through the distance and brushing against his mouth, carrying every bit of her concern and coating it in a layer of tenderness.

Shock washed through his eyes, looking to Makoto in that moment like they may as well have contained an entire world. As if they were unsteady waters slowly calming with the rise of the sun. As if they were rainclouds breaking apart and turning to nothing under the strength of that golden light.

It left her breathless. “Tell me how to help carry this pain for you.”

_Please, Akira. Please._

Akira moved to say something, to melt further against her touch, but his phone began vibrating somewhere underneath the piles of notes he had stacked and scattered around the table.

Makoto allowed her hands to fall, returning to their places at his back and his side.

_FUTABA: “I know it’s probably not my place to say at this point, but please listen to her.”_

_FUTABA: “You’ve been at this for hours! Even though!! I already told you!!! The plans are as perfect as they’re gonna get!!!!”_

_FUTABA: “Besides.”_

_FUTABA: “I don’t think I could forgive you for refusing to be nice to yourself after everything you’ve done for me.”_

Akira made a noise. A small breath, not quite a laugh, followed by a gentle nod. He leaned further into Makoto’s arms as he placed his phone back on the table – this time above the notes.

“Thank you, Taba.” Makoto breathed through the whisper of a smile, and she pressed a soft kiss to Akira’s cheek as she did. “Now please stop listening, I need Aki to myself for the rest of the night.”

_FUTABA: “I promise.”_

_FUTABA: “…Please take care of yourself, Akira. For all of us.”_

The two of them stayed silent, but Makoto felt Akira relax just a bit further.

“…What time is it?” He finally asked, moaning softly at the feeling of her fingers trailing off, of her arms circling back around his waist and her lips gently coming to rest against his shoulder at the first signaling of his resolve utterly crumbling to pieces.

“Late.” She whispered, kissing his shoulder again. “Too late.” Another kiss, this one slower and more deliberate against the thin fabric of his shirt. “I want to spend time with you before tomorrow, Aki.”

_Let me take care of you._

_Please._

And when he pulled an arm free, when he pulled her closer and returned her gesture by kissing the space between her eyes, she knew he would be okay.

“I’m sorry. For all of that. I’m just worried about losing one of you.” He whispered against her temple. “I’m worried about losing _all_ of you… I can’t go through that ever again.”

“Don’t you dare apologize for feeling vulnerable, Aki.” Makoto shifted away enough to cup his cheeks between her palms and to stare deep into his eyes, all rough and unsure with the uncertainty of their future. But he would be okay. Makoto knew the others had grasped onto his love and affection with everything in them. And she knew that they made sure to return his feelings with everything left, the pieces of themselves that he had loved and nurtured, that he had cared for day after day and then given back as a gift. He was stronger this time. He trusted more easily. He gave their family his heart, and they protected it, made it stronger with every day they were together. They would make it through, and she would be there with him every step of the way, reminding him that he had done all he could. “You won’t lose us. Not a single one of us.”

Akira nodded through a sigh and slowly closed his eyes.

“Now.” Makoto continued, a sneaky little grin shining on her mouth as she moved even closer. “Will you let me take care of you?”

His brow drew itself down in confusion, and Makoto couldn’t help the soft breath of a giggle that it brought out of her.

“Can I help you forget about all of this?” She asked, with her lips _just_ out of reach of his. “Just for tonight. Let’s not worry about anything but us.”

Akira smiled, the dark clouds in his eyes lined with those familiar little flakes of gold, and his face brighter than it had been all day. “Alright. Okay.” He whispered against her forehead, and he shoved himself straight out of the booth, taking Makoto with him. He lifted her into the air, and her legs clasped around his waist on instinct as her squeals and her laughter rang through the entire building.

~~~

_“And if – this is all hypothetical, mind you.” The speakers bounced Akechi’s voice off every surface in the auditorium. No one seemed to mind. No one but her, anyway._

_Even still, Makoto let out a small sigh of relief, one completely buried under the wall of noise. According to Akira’s story, Akechi believed that only himself and Akira had regained their memories. Unfortunately, he hadn’t made the slightest move to reveal whether he knew something more, so there was no way to prove that true. Makoto was skeptical that he didn’t know at least_ something _, to say the least, but playing the role of someone in their first life rather than their second had proven so far to be successful. Everything about this encounter was as close to before as she could remember, and the chances of Akechi remembering the exact details more clearly than herself certainly felt low enough. They weren’t zero, but it was a gamble the entire team knew they had to take._

_A slow, deep breath later, he continued. “If the Phantom Thieves are the ones I know of, I can’t possibly imagine they would kill anyone.”_

_“Your comment just now… Does this mean – ” Makoto tried, but she was cut off by a calmly raised hand; a signal that he wasn’t finished._

_Something was happening._

_“Yes.” He stated. And he let that single word, that single syllable, hang in the air for what felt to Makoto like endless moments. And just when she thought he might reveal some damning detail that had gone entirely overlooked, he continued. “I believe that you could be a Phantom Thief.”_

_The crowd – the entire room – went absolutely silent, and Makoto felt as if her heart crashed to a halt. Akechi didn’t add anything else, he only stared at Makoto with the same eyes he had worn during that encounter in the Metaverse. His eyes were cold. In ways that felt familiar and ways that frightened her. They seemed to crystalize from the insides out, changing from a pale brown to something darker, nearly the shade of blood. Akira had eyes like that. Though they lacked even the tiniest shred of Akira’s warmth. Her breath sped up. Her blood felt frozen in her veins, and an unspoken conversation seemed to float between them in the silence._

_Makoto knew her eyes told of her fear. She also knew that they would not explain a word, they would only demand._

_“You wouldn’t…” They said, as they held themselves locked with his._

_“Oh?” His answered in return, sly and knowing. “Now that’s not quite the look I would have expected. Are you perhaps like us? Trapped in this game without any sign of an exit?”_

_Makoto stayed silent._

_Something playful shone through the violent waters of Akechi’s eyes, then. “No…” They seemed to say. “You couldn’t be. That_ thing _only ever demanded the two of us become pawns in its twisted game… I don’t suppose it’s likely that you would find some way to break_ in _when the two of us have spent so long unable to break out.”_

 _“…But then, as I recall, you weren’t_ nearly _as close to him as you are now.” They added, narrowing almost imperceptibly. “Your doing? No… he must truly value you to tangle you back into his world so quickly.”_

 _Makoto watched as he turned back to the crowd, the storm in his eyes newly calmed, and the smile on his face pristine and rehearsed. “_ I _could be a Phantom Thief! Any of you sitting out there in the audience could be the Phantom Thieves!”_

_And the crowd laughed. Hesitance seeped through the sound, but before long, it became something genuine; they cheered for him as if the scene that had just played out was nothing more than an innocent little tease._

_“I apologize for the cruel joke, Miss Niijima, but I truly cannot speak on the matter any further.” His fake, plastic smile cracked, just barely, with the sound of his words._

_As calmly as she could, Makoto gathered herself back together and brought the interview to an end._

She felt Akira shudder beneath her, as she sat straddling his bare thighs.

She had been lost in thought. Doing the very thing she nearly brought herself to tears talking Akira out of, only moments ago. But the way he reacted to the pads of her fingers dragging along every plane and every valley of his chest put her presence firmly back inside of her own body. His endless little gasps and moans as she traced each and every inch of his still nearly spotless skin rooted her firmly back to herself. There wasn’t a single injury, not a single reminder of their time together on his body. The only thing left was that single, painful reminder of everything they had left behind blemishing his chest. The only thing left was that, and the many new cuts and scrapes and burns that lined his hands; the result of his work both in and out of the Metaverse. The result of hours spent crafting little tools and trinkets. Of burning the tips of his fingers, overworking himself to summon Persona after Persona and subjecting himself to that unending blue flame. They were proof of Akira’s uniquely difficult life. And she felt them on her thighs, rough and course as he gripped tighter and looser; as he let his thumbs run little circles in tune with her journey across his body.

She flattened her palms against his stomach and dragged them up toward his shoulders. Akira’s fingers dug gently into her skin. He tilted his head back with a small, broken sigh.

Makoto leaned down closer and closer to him, she kissed the length of the scar on his chest. She wanted to erase it. She wished it would be completely vanished as she pulled her lips away. It was too much to see; every mistake, every miscalculation the two of them had ever made in their fight to survive. In Akira’s fight to find her again. In her fight to understand. To remember. All of it condensed and focused into a single injury that she could never escape no matter how badly she wanted it.

Akira’s hands moved slow, almost frustratingly so, up her thighs. They continued, that faint, dull scrape of his scar tissue pulling at her skin until his hands found a new home settled at her waist.

His reactions were too much.

It felt almost as if he was missing her already. As if he was missing her as a precaution; as if he was trying with everything in him to vent all of his fears and frustrations out into every touch and every word and every reaction and breath and even the tiniest little movements that she pulled so carefully and delicately from his body during their final hours together. Because that way, there would be nothing left but confidence when the sun began to rise.

And Makoto understood that feeling.

Far, far too well, she understood. So if he was going to allow himself to lose control and cling only to her promise that they would return to each other, she could indulge him. She could indulge herself, as well. They could play this game, and she would make absolutely sure that Akira emptied his mind of everything but _her_ until the time came for them to part.

Because before long, they would be together again. She would finally be able to help Akira move past all of it.

“I was thinking, the other day.” She trailed her hand lower, across his stomach and his hips, and let her fingers run whispers of little circles around the shapes of his muscles. “When we were in Mementos, on one of our outings to help Haru control her Persona.”

“Oh?” He asked, trying and failing to hide the strain in his voice as she stroked even lower.

_…Adorable._

Makoto hummed out a small laugh. “I was watching you, you always look so happy when we’re working. So focused. I love seeing that look on your face. And the way you moved… the way your clothes clung to your body… I was doing a _lot_ of thinking.” She grinned full of mischief as her hand moved lower still, until her nails brushed gently against the skin of his shaft. “And I hope you can forgive me for saying so, but my reasons for trying to pull you away from those notes might be just a _little_ selfish.”

“H-haah, you’re still… not the best liar… Mako.” Akira groaned, an attempt at a laugh made into something else by the sensation of each of Makoto’s fingers wrapping around the length of him. He reached a stiff arm up, pawing at her shoulder, and she let him pull her down. Until she was there, and their mouths were together. She flicked her tongue playfully at his lips to urge them apart and she began stroking him slow and lazy and not in any hurry at all; giggles escaped into his mouth when his only response was to moan again, far too loud.

_That’s it, Aki. Let tonight be about us. Joke with me. Smile with me._

“I might… _ahh_ …” He tried, and Makoto giggled once again before urging his lips to _stay_ open so that she could taste him. So that she could taste the words she was stopping him from speaking. But Akira was still Akira, and he put up a token amount of resistance; just enough to struggle through the remainder of his sentence. “I might… have accepted for similar reasons…”

_There you are, I missed you…_

And then she was there all over again, crushing her lips to his; tasting and breathing and feeling everything she could as she squeezed him tighter and stroked him harder. She kissed him with all the passion pulsing through her veins and all the breath dancing in her lungs; she nibbled and licked and sucked until Akira made it clear that he needed air.

Another kiss, this one far softer – and more smile than anything – pressed to the bottom of his jaw, and Makoto met his eyes before sliding herself down his legs and settling on her front, her face in his lap. Slowly. Excruciatingly slow, to be absolutely sure that Akira could feel how much she wanted him. He was watching her every move, and she could tell he was feeling just as much as he was seeing.

“Now what do you think I should do with this?” She grinned, nudging her nose against his length.

The way he shivered at the feel of her breath made her smile grow wide and bright. She kissed him once, as lightly as she could, this time on the head. “Well? Aki?”

A rough groan escaped Akira, and he barely managed to piece together enough syllables to form a sentence as she continued, kissing a little trail from top to bottom. “Haahn... Makoto _please_.”

“Please what? It seems your Queen doesn’t understand your request! She needs you to be more specific than that.”

“ _Makoto._ ”

Makoto giggled, mischief in her eyes and lips pressed softly against the base of him. “Sorry, sorry. I just wanted to see you squirm, Aki.”

She slowly mouthed and licked her way back up to the head, and the instant another moan came roaring out of Akira’s throat she took him completely into her mouth, humming at the strangled noises he let loose and the feeling of one of his hands gently tangling through her hair. His fingers tugged gently, and Makoto followed, tilting her head to meet his eyes; her own were wide with intent and watching every single reaction.

He moaned, loud. “Mako…”

She moved slowly, languidly, up and down; running her tongue along every inch of him, sucking lightly at the tip and pressing lazy little kisses to the base. She could tell it was driving him crazy, could see by the way he arched his back _just_ a bit harder and the way he gripped at the sheets with _just_ a bit more force, that she had him completely at her mercy. Makoto lapped up his moans and she swallowed down his sighs and his whimpers and endless little praises.

Losing herself in the sound of his voice and the feeling of his hands on her – desperate for her – was hardly rare, and neither was the feeling of the last threads of his control threatening to break underneath her. But still, Makoto recognized that there was something different in the air between them that night. The knowledge of what had come and the expectations of what might happen bubbled and boiled together until it was as if they were back in that first night of returned memories and long repressed tears. Their emotions and feelings and the need to touch that they had long since taken time to explore and to treat as best they could were now tangling with the possibility of a new future, and demanding to be expressed.

All over again.

And so Makoto continued bobbing and sucking and trying to snap those final few threads of restraint still holding together within him. She continued trying so that they could both drown in the sensations of one another. So that they could let everything but the feelings and the taste and the sight of each other be washed away.

_Are you close?_

She went up and down, deeper than before, and Akira tensed.

She went up and down, harder than before, and Akira moaned. _Cum for me…_

Again, and his hand tightened in her hair. _Cum for me, Aki._

Again, and his breath was shaking. He pulled softly – so soft she barely even noticed – and Makoto looked up slowly, Her eyes hooded and heavy and, evidently, the last push Akira needed toward his complete and total collapse. He jerked up, hitting the back of Makoto’s throat, and he buried his face in a pillow to muffle his moans and his whines as he filled her mouth. Thick and hot and enough that he was practically trembling with exhaustion beneath her as he slowed to a finish.

She pulled off of him, slowly, and she swallowed every last drop. Akira stared at her, face still partially hidden beneath the pillow and cheeks dusted in red; his eyes were glassy and such a beautiful, vibrant gold and his face read nothing but simple sleepy satisfaction. Makoto’s heart did backflips in her chest, and she hoped he saw even the tiniest shred of that warm, fluttering affection staring back at him as it pulsed its way through every space inside of her. She kept her eyes locked with his, and she rose back onto her knees to climb and crawl her way forward, laying down again to settle against his chest.

“Kiss me.” She whispered.

And he did.

Their lips moved together sleepy and dreamy, and their bodies pulled each other closer and closer; desperate to feel as much themselves pressed together as they could. Breathing didn’t matter in that moment, Makoto decided, only chasing that feeling of closeness as far as she could, for as long as she could.

What must have been entire minutes later, she finally reached her limit and let herself collapse into his shoulder with a quick, giggly peck to the tip of his nose. Her legs twined with his and their bodies relaxed, nearly melting together as they enjoyed their few final hours together in each other’s arms.

The exhausted smile sitting on Akira’s lips didn’t escape her notice.

She ghosted a finger along the shape, dedicated to committing it to memory before sleep finally came to claim her, too.

_Sweet dreams, you._

~~~

_“I trust you recall how our previous meeting in this office played out?” Goro asked, still wearing that fake, perfect mask of his; still pretending to be someone that they both knew he wasn’t._

_Akira wasn’t sure why._

_Akira wasn’t sure about a lot of things to do with Goro anymore._

_“I’ll spare you the grand speech, seeing as only the two of us are here.” He continued, and it almost felt as if that perfectly rehearsed, well-worn mask of his crumbled away to reveal whatever was underneath. Akira still didn’t know what it was. Goro’s voice was sharp, and empty, and every syllable of every word struck Akira down to the deepest depths of his soul. “I don’t know how you managed to trap the both of us here. I don’t know, and I don’t care. That_ thing _, the warden of that prison, could have some hand in this; and I don’t doubt for an instant that it does… but this reality, our current reality, wouldn’t exist as a possibility were it not for you. So there is something you’re going to do for me as long as we’re both stuck. Consider it your apology.”_

_Akira watched in silence, his voice and his ability to breathe both caught, tangled together in his throat, waiting to hear what would come._

_“You’re going to go to your friends – I don’t care how you do it or what excuse you whip into existence to rally them to your side – and convince them to steal Sae Niijima’s heart one more time. I’m sure the younger Niijima already hopes to save her sister. Play on that. Convince her to go through with it. And then, I’m going to capture you. And kill you. Again. And that way I will know beyond any shadow of a doubt whether we are truly trapped reliving these days over and over… or if your luck runs out with this final chance. I_ will _find a way out of this.”_

_Akira stayed quiet for long, drawn out moments, and the sound of his breathing seemed to ring off every corner of the room._

_He couldn’t raise his head. “Why w – ”_

_“Because if you don’t, I’ll kill one of them every day until you do. Akira. Don’t feign ignorance. Not here, not now.” Another small glimpse of whatever Goro was holding back peeked through his voice. It was the same thing he felt when Goro walked out and left him alone, the same he felt when Goro blamed him for everything that day in the Metaverse. “You know I’ve already done the same to nearly every one of my employers from our previous life, so I know you understand this isn’t a bluff. I will make your life an even bigger hell than you have made mine if you decide to play ignorant. Because all of this could not possibly be anyone’s fault but yours.” Goro paused and rolled his shoulders slowly before continuing. Whatever Akira saw was gone with that movement. “But we’ve had this conversation before. Very recently, at that. So I’ll end things here.”_

_He walked past Akira then, eyes a wild and horrible storm, the darkest shade of rust Akira had ever seen. His presence crushed the air from Akira’s lungs._

_And Akira wanted, more than anything, to deny what he was saying. To say that this wasn’t his fault, that he was just as clueless as Goro, but that cluelessness only seemed to prove Goro right. It only seemed to say that this_ could _be his fault after all. And who was he to argue with that?_

_The only scrap of an idea he had left to cling to was that Goro believed they alone knew the truth._

_He had to tell the others._

_“…I loved you, you know.” Whispered Akira, broken and shattered and hoping that Goro was still in the room to hear. Or maybe he hoped he was gone. He couldn’t tell anymore._

_The doorknob rattled behind him, but the door remained closed. Akira could practically hear the fist tightening around it. And then Goro straightened himself out._

_“And I you. Truly… but I doubt we were ever meant to have that opportunity.” Goro whispered. “I’ll see you soon.”_

_His footsteps faded into the distance._

~~~

“I thought I told you…” Makoto mumbled in a burst of faux outrage before latching her mouth to his throat. He groaned at the feeling of her tongue and her teeth and her lips, and something inside of him clicked into place, brought to that point by the whirlwind of sensations and the feeling of her body shifting again to sit on top of him. “No more planning.”

 _I’m coming back._ He rolled the thought around in his head as she pulled away.

 _I’m not losing you again. Not a single one of you._ He reaffirmed as she kissed him, hard and slow, soft and fast, and with just enough tongue to turn that _click_ into a _snap_.

He flipped them both over, let the full weight of himself down onto her body, accompanied by the chorus of her laughter and the feeling of her hands combing through his hair. It felt strange to him still, after so much time had passed, to be able to be like this with Makoto. To be able to feel every inch of her body, covered in endless little scars – though not the same scars as before, and that was almost the strangest thing of all, to feel the same body covered in nearly countless little changes – or to be able to see her smile as he leaned closer to swallow up each and every little giggle or gasp from the edges of her lips with only a kiss. Or to fill his vision with the shine of her eyes as they joined together and pressed as much of themselves to each other as they could.

No matter how many changes had passed them by in their new world, no matter how many differences, Akira knew that Makoto, at least, was the same. He wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve her.

“ _There’s_ my Joker.” She snickered, scratching at his scalp in tune with her words. And Akira knew she felt the same. She peppered him with tens of tiny little kisses along the shape of his lips.

He smiled back, and he kissed the tip of her nose. “Hi.”

“ _Hi._ ” She breathed back, wriggling around and pushing her body up and into him.

A moan came loose at the feeling, and Akira returned her laugh, gripping at her hips and pressing down even harder as he latched their mouths together once again.

“Aki…” She moaned into him.

“ _Aki…_ ” Again, with a nip at his lower lip. She whined and she moaned his name over and over, chanting it like a mantra. Like seeing his resistance crumble away to accept their quiet moment of happiness was the most important thing in her world. And knowing her, he thought, it might have been.

He trailed his mouth lower, kissing down to her jaw, to her neck. And Akira took extra care to draw out as many little laughs as he could before moving lower still.

One of his hands drifted slowly away, moving up as his lips moved further down. He traced up along her exposed skin, along the new scars that he had yet to fully memorize, as he mouthed down to the swell of her breasts. And he let his journey across her body to come to a stop all over again. Akira mouthed at a nipple as his hand found the other, groping and pinching and drawing out so many little moans from Makoto. His tongue twisted and twirled until her hands found their way into his hair and fisted, holding him in place and clenched tight with the sound of her enjoyment. When he slowed, when her fingers finally fell slack enough for him to move, he rose slowly to his knees and met the sparkling, vibrant red of Makoto’s eyes.

“…I need to find a better way to thank you for everything one of these days.” A small grin and lidded eyes stared down at her.

Makoto’s legs circled his waist, willing him closer.

“You do.” She chided. “But this is more than enough for now, Aki. Get back to it.” And she smiled wide as her legs pulled him back toward the skin of her belly.

“Your wish is my command, majesty.” Akira returned her tease with a little bow. And he pressed a gentle kiss to the base of her ribs, locking eyes with her again before adding one last comment, whispered as quietly as he could. “I love you, you know.”

Makoto smiled, and she reached out for him, her eyes heavy and her breath coming hard and slow. Soft fingers traced the line of his jaw before cradling his cheeks, holding him there, entranced by her vibrant ruby eyes. “I love you too, Akira. More than anything.”

“I’m coming back this time.” He covered one of her hands with his own.

“I know you are.” Their fingers threaded together, and Makoto gave a gentle squeeze.

“And I’ll make it – all of this, the past two years – I’ll make it all up to you then.” He whispered, heart beating its way toward his throat and heat slowly building behind his eyes.

“I know you will, Aki.” She told him again, her smile softening and her eyes growing even more gentle, holding him even more fully in her presence. “You’ll come back me just like I came back to you.”

Returning the gesture, Akira squeezed her hand. He pressed a kiss to every one of her knuckles. Each one lighter than the last, so gentle they may as well have been faint little whispers.

And he returned to his work, lowering down and spreading her legs apart as he kissed down the path of her stomach.

“ _Ohhh… Aki…_ ” Makoto shivered at the contact.

Makoto’s lungs filled to the brim and emptied themselves almost at once in a silent, wordless gasp, as he reached his goal. Her back arched against him, squirming to reach closer, but he held her waist pinned to the bed under the strength of his arms, and her legs lay resting on his back. Her hands flailed, clawing and twisting into his hair, the sheets, whatever she could reach. Akira lapped up every movement and every sound that escaped her. He sucked at her most sensitive place, and he licked and he stroked and he made every effort to draw out the sound of his name. To hear it falling from her lips like a hushed secret that she had protected and nurtured until she was able to show him.

His name filled the room, two little syllables dancing and swaying in the dark until they filled every inch of every space. Makoto’s moans turned to cries, her cries turned to sobs, and Akira gripped her thighs tighter against his shoulders. He wriggled his tongue inside and then out, and he brushed his nose against that sensitive nub before covering it with his mouth once again. And he made every effort to make every movement that he knew his Queen loved until her thighs were clenching hard around his head, until her eyes were wide and bright underneath the stray beams of moonlight drifting in through the window. She rocked herself against him. Unsteady and harsh, over and over until her tense, shaky movements ended with a broken and shuddering gasp, and her legs loosened Her rocking slowed. Until she was out of breath, gulping for air and utterly boneless in his grip.

Akira pressed a small, slow kiss to her lower belly before climbing his way up to wrap her in his arms. He could feel as her breath returned and her heart steadied that she was drifting closer and closer to sleep. The way she snuggled her face into the crook of his neck, the way she slipped her legs both over and under his own, and even the way she buried herself in his chest with a quiet, muffled sigh signaled the change.

He couldn’t help but smile.

He never, ever, seemed to be able to fight off that feeling around her.

Lips pressed again to the top of Makoto’s head, and he tightened his grip around her.

“Goodnight, Makoto.” Akira sighed into her hair. “I love you.”

~~~

_“…You think this is a game? These people are called criminals by the general public.” Sojiro gripped tight at his knees as he spoke, as if the pain might help him to make sense of the betrayal that was just laid out in front of him. “Why did you introduce s – ”_

_“Sojiro.” Akira interrupted, his tone harsher than any he had ever used with his guardian before. Sojiro quieted in an instant, almost recoiling in shock. “I know this isn’t a game. We all do – I’ve lived through enough broken bones and collected enough near deadly scars to know better. Most of us have… but not Futaba. Not her. Never her. No matter what happens, I promise you, never her.”_

_Akira’s eyes fell back to his hands, clasped on the bar counter in front of him. “I meant what I said the other day.” He said, voice small but not weak. “She’s our family. She’s my little sister, I would die before I let anything happen to her.”_

_“…So then why bring this to me? I could turn the three of you in to the police, you know. Taking in a bunch of criminals, what the hell did I get myself into?” Sojiro grumbled, still refusing to make eye contact. His grip loosened just enough to notice._

_The sound of Futaba’s laughter answered his question before Akira had the chance._

_“I told Akira and Makoto the same thing when they offered to help me, you know.” She grinned. “They’re – We’re… we’re going after the people who killed mom.”_

_Sojiro finally looked up just as Futaba ducked away, let herself fall into Akira’s shoulder. “…What? Killed?”_

_“We’re bringing this to you because it’s important that you know everything.” Makoto continued. She was firm and resolute in every syllable. “We’re bringing this to you because there is a very good chance that something might happen to one of us in the coming days, and we need you to remain calm when it happens.”_

~~~

Makoto wasn’t ready to accept her exhaustion. Not yet. Not when there was still so many hours between them and their mission. She arched herself into Akira, let even more of her body come together with his. Her arms circled around the back of his neck to allow her hands to comb through Akira’s inky black curls.

A tender kiss pressed to the bottom of his chin.

“Aki…” She moaned against his throat, letting her voice slide along every inch of skin it could reach.

Something stiff brushed against her thighs.

It seemed Akira wasn’t quite ready for sleep either.

“You’re still hard…” Makoto dragged her fingers down his side, slipped her fingers around him one by one in a loose grip. Just enough to pull him away from the brink of sleep.

A poorly masked groan of pleasure signaled his thoughts on the matter, even as his words said something else. “…I don’t suppose you’ll let me have a say in this?”

“I think this little guy’s already answered for you, Aki.” She teased him with another stroke, another kiss against his jaw.

Her free hand urges him onto his back. “Besides…” She continued, climbing her way onto his lap. Still stroking, still smirking, still watching as the silver in his eyes sparkled with the light of the moon and as the gold burned like flames more intense than any she had ever seen. “I want you.”

She ground herself slow and deliberate against his thighs. “ _Please…_ ”

And then his hands were on her hips, digging into the skin, and their eyes were locked on one another, and Akira ran his fingers up along the trail of her spine and through her hair; to pull her down into a kiss as she wriggled herself once, twice, down onto him and suddenly, _finally_ , they were together. Finally Akira was sighing and writhing beneath her in the exact ways she wanted. Though, Makoto knew she was hardly blameless for drawing the moment out. She grinned into his lips and swallowed up each and every one of his moans as they came. Her hands drew up to trace around every rise and fall of muscle on his stomach and his chest as they moved, and for the first time, hidden between the sounds of their whines and their breathing and their pleasure, she allowed herself a taste of the vulnerability that they had so far managed to keep away.

“If… _ah…_ ” Makoto began, her sighs and her pants slowly filling every space between every word. “Even… even if we have to go through all of this again, Aki, I – I know you’ll find a way out eventually.”

Akira’s only answer was a single choked moan. His eyes clenched shut and he sighed, broken and shuddering. Nearly a sob.

As her hands came to cup his face, she brushed her nose along his and spoke her next words with a smile so bright that he seemed to lose focus on everything else. Makoto tried to laugh at the sight, but it only came as heavy breaths, as moans and noises she wanted to make against his lips so that he could taste them all. “I know… you’ll be just as much of a gentleman as you were before… if that happens.”

Akira shook his head.

“I’m coming back this time, Makoto.” He locked his eyes to hers with a whisper, and Makoto finally let her movements come to a stop. “I’m coming back.” He promised again, that golden fire in his eyes completely overpowering any remaining traces of silver.

She nodded.

Again, this time more confident, and Akira smiled softly in response. He began to move beneath her. Gentle thrusts meant to remind her of what she started. And so she continued, watching as Akira slowly turned into a writhing mess under the touch of her hands and her lips and her entire body moving on top of him. He was tired, Makoto knew he was, and she was no better off. Exhaustion rushed through her body and threatened to claim her before she reached the heights she wanted so desperately to find.

“I love you…” She breathed, burying her face in Akira’s neck and wrapping her arms behind his head, fisting at his hair. “I love you, I love you I love you I lo – _ah_ , Akira… _Aki…_ ” And she pressed down on him, grinding and twisting and thrusting until that wonderful friction finally brought her to the edge of the cliff she had been climbing toward all evening. She stood at the edge, eyes on the horizon. And then she dove down, headfirst into a toe-curling descent of pleasure, of tensed muscles and short, empty breaths and the feeling of Akira bucking and twisting and falling along with her; of Akira circling his arms around her shoulders and the back of her head and pulling her close, as close as he could manage and then closer still.

When she finally landed, when she finally returned to herself and found her every nerve filled with the dull thrum of the sort of sleepy satisfaction that made any excess thoughts an impossible dream, she allowed herself to slide off of Akira’s chest.

To settle into the space between his side and the hard, cool wood of the wall. Wrapped in his arms. She pawed out, unable to completely control her limbs for the moment, until she found his free hand, and she threaded her fingers with his.

“…See you soon, Akira.” A quiet, scratchy breath.

She couldn’t quite make out the words said in reply as she drifted away to sleep, but she knew they would eventually find their way back to her.

~~~

Makoto ducked behind the corner. No one was waiting for her down the next hall either.

Futaba told the entire team to expect as much – her Persona hadn’t picked up a single person waiting in ambush. Not Akechi, not a police force, not anything – and it wasn’t as if their plan hadn’t accounted for it, even _expected_ it, but the reality of having lived through this day once before made the idea more than a little difficult to accept. Something, anything, _everything_ , could still go wrong, and she needed to be prepared to deal with whatever that might be. She needed to keep her promise to Akira so that she could tell him, over and over and over again, that they finally made it through.

_I want to see his smile again._

They had managed to replicate the steps taken before; the steps taken to save her sister without harming her or directly stealing her heart. But there had been no blackmail beyond Akechi’s secret meeting with Akira. There was no constant menacing presence hiding just over their shoulders. No murderer in a black mask waiting just around the corner. Not even any Shadows patrolling the last few halls separating her from safety.

_We expected this. Everything is still okay, Makoto. Breathe._

They were truly and honestly alone, and something about that was both terrifying and comforting at once. No one was there but Makoto and the people she trusted most. Her family. No one was there to spy on her sister’s deepest secrets.

But it also meant that there was no way to measure exactly when –

_If._

_If, not when, Makoto. Be more confident. They need you. Akira needs you._

There was nothing.

Only the eerie silence of the back rooms of Makoto’s escape route.

She ran down the service hallway as fast as she could. Still no one. But that didn’t mean she was safe. Not until she was back in the real world and able to contact the others.

And she _would_ make it back.

~~~

The last train home was about as empty as Akira expected. He hadn’t felt comfortable returning home straight away, so he stuck around in Shibuya for most of the evening, wandering through backstreets and alleyways and killing as much time as he could. Morgana didn’t object, he wanted to know that everyone was safe, but agreed that it would be for the best to calm down ahead of time. Besides, he offered, Futaba was watching right up until the end, she would find them right away if something had happened.

A bump in the track caused the lights in the car to flicker.

“Looks like you really made it out okay this time!” Morgana smiled from inside Akira’s bag.

He nodded.

_It’s still not over. Not until I can see all of them again._

The train arrived at the station.

He stepped out into the streets of Yongen, and his phone received a barrage of notifications. Texts, and group chat messages, missed calls and voicemails.

Someone tried calling again before he could work his way through any of it.

“…Hello?” He tried, his nerves and anxiety suddenly rushing to reclaim their place in his chest. The caller hung up, and footsteps rushed toward him from the direction of Leblanc.

_...Futaba?_

“ _Finally_!” She cried, leaping into his arms and burying herself in his chest. She squeezed around him as tight as she could. “I’ve been trying to reach you forever…”

~~~

Makoto turned the final corner, prepared to sprint for the exit, and in the instant she recognized that there was nothing between her and the outside world, something slammed down on the back of her head with enough force to black out her vision. Her legs gave out beneath her.

_She pawed out, unable to completely control her limbs for the moment, until she found his free hand, and she threaded her fingers with his._

_“…See you soon, Akira.” A quiet, scratchy breath._

_“I’ll be home soon, Mako.” Akira kissed the top of her head. “I love you.”_


	15. Chapter 15

Futaba barreled down the street, diving straight into Akira’s arms before she was even close enough to reach. He stumbled the few steps forward, Morgana yowled, tripped, and fell out of his bag, and his bag fell off of his shoulder.

And Futaba gripped tight.

Too tight. Something was wrong.

“ _Finally!_ ” She wailed, quieting herself against his shirt.

The dam broke the second he wrapped his arms even tighter around her; the second he leaned forward, his brow drawn down and his fingers petting and combing and brushing a soothing pattern through her hair. She sobbed, she cried, and she dug her nails into his shirt, wailing herself to exhaustion as they stood together, in the middle of the street, in the dark of the night.

Akira eventually managed to convince her to sit before her legs gave out, but he never let go. He continued petting; continued whispering soothing words into the space between them, rocking her slowly back and forth in his arms as they came to rest against a nearby wall. They were just around the corner from Leblanc, and Akira would have preferred to bring her inside, but he recognized that there wasn’t much he could do to make that happen in the moment.

So instead, he stretched out his legs and pulled Futaba close, a gentle kiss pressed just beneath her hairline.

“I’ve been trying to reach you forever…” She finally said, between broken sobs and hitching breaths. “It’s… Th - they…”

“Shh…” He whispered. “Don’t try to talk yet, Taba. It can wait.”

Futaba shook her head against his chest.

“N – no! No!” She cried, pulling herself free from his gasp until she was situated on her knees in front of him, staring him in the eyes and nearly scowling in something between fear and frustration. “They… Makoto! Makoto’s gone!”

Akira worked his throat. Nothing happened. He opened his mouth. No sound came.

_…Makoto? He went after Makoto?_

“She – she just disappeared… And you were… You…” Tears spilled down Futaba’s cheeks as she tried to explain, but she shook off Akira’s attempt to wipe them away. “I thought – you didn’t answer your phone and I was starting to think you were gone too… I – ”

_Does he know? Or was this his plan all along?_

Akira reached out again to hold her, to pull her close, and this time Futaba didn’t fight back. She clutched and squeezed and clawed at whatever part of him she could get her hands on, mumbling little broken worries about not being able to handle losing them both after they had given her the world.

“You won’t lose us, Futaba.” Akira whispered against her hair. “You won’t lose either of us…”

And she nodded again. She hummed her answer, settled closer and allowed her tears to dry.

“Is Yusuke still in the area?” He asked.

Futaba only nodded.

Akira gently squeezed her shoulder. “Can you stand?”

“Mmm.”

“In that case, let’s…” He sighed, hoping she couldn’t hear how nervous he was.

_That’s the last thing she needs to deal with right now. We’ll take this one step at a time._

“Let’s head back to Leblanc. Looks like we’ve got a bit more work left tonight.”

Another nod, and this time, Futaba reached up to lift Akira’s hand from her shoulder. She clasped it tight between her own and squeezed.

“We’ll save her.” She whispered. “We’ll get her back for sure.”

~~~

“Welcome, Trickster.”

Akira knew that voice.

He jolted to his feet.

He stomped to his cell door.

And he waited.

“It appears that you have failed to learn from your mistakes. Just as I predicted, you allowed yourself to trust those close to you; yet you remained unable to grant that respect to the one most in need. The other.” Igor smiled. That same fake smile on that same fake man sitting in the middle of the same fake prison that Akira felt he might never escape. “However.” He continued, and his wardens – the twins, Caroline and Justine – startled from their positions just outside of Akira’s cell and stepped to attention, turning to face their master. Akira hadn’t even noticed them. “Just as before, while I predicted one outcome, you have surprised me by bringing forth another. Your bonds are indeed stronger than I anticipated.”

A frown covered Akira’s face.

“Let us see if those bonds are strong enough to see you through this. Your greatest challenge yet. Let us see if those bonds are strong enough to answer your previous question.” Igor laughed. The walls shook.

And as Akira’s grip on the bars loosened, he heard another voice.

“Trickster.”

His gaze drifted down to the twins in blue standing outside of his cell. Their golden eyes stared back at him, a comforting, almost nostalgic fire dancing inside. It was the closest he had ever bothered to look since before everything fell to pieces. They weren’t the eyes of a shadow, pale and glazed over, they were something more. Something stronger. Something familiar.

_I’m sorry I couldn’t get to know you two this time._

_You don’t deserve this._

“We believe in you.” They continued. “We will be waiting for you at the end of your journey.”

Akira nodded slowly. He wasn’t sure he could name the reason – and maybe it was something as simple as the sound of their voices; oddly welcoming when compared with their master’s – but a smile slid across his face as he did.

_I hope you two can forgive me for staying so distant._

They began to speak again, to say something else, but all Akira heard was the sound of fingers snapping.

~~~

Akira woke covered in sweat. He rose up as high as he could, his hands balanced behind him.

_A little warning for one of those dreams would be nice, once of these times._

He sat forward, folded his legs and let himself collapse. He buried his face in his palms and groaned.

“Welcome back.” Futaba called, face bathed in the dim light of her laptop as she sat huddled under what must have been three different blankets, curled away in the corner of the couch.

Akira couldn’t help but smile. “Everything going okay?”

“As well as could be expected.” Without raising her head or even her eyes from her screen she answered. Her voice was heavy with exhaustion. “…It’s okay if you don’t want to be up for this, Akira.”

“No. No I need to be here in case something happens.” He ran fingers through his curls and ruffled it all back into place.

_This is all I can do for Makoto. I at least owe it to her to stay awake long enough to know what’s going on._

“Right, but you don’t have to be _awake._ ” And this time, Futaba _did_ look up. That sparkle in her eyes let Akira know that she was doing everything she could to run the team in his place. That sparkle said that she would have dragged Makoto back with her own two hands if it was an option. “No offense, but all you’re gonna be able to do at this point is worry. Yusuke is in position and everything’s good to go… Haru’s ready to swap in if things go longer than we expected… it’s just a waiting game for now.”

Akira tried to find something to say, he racked his brain for an answer – any answer – but came up short every time he crashed against the reminder that he wasn’t alone. Makoto was gone, and there was no way around that, but he wasn’t alone. They would bring her back. As a team.

As a family.

He sighed. “Alright, Taba. You win.” And the room went silent after he answered. As he stayed sitting there, curled somewhere between the sheets and the wall. “Do you mind if I stay up anyway? I could keep you company. Make some coffee for us or something, try to make this a little easier, I don’t know.”

A sleepy grin cracked across Futaba’s face. “…That sounds nice.”

So Akira climbed his way out of his bed, making sure to ruffle Futaba’s hair as he passed by. She leaned up and away from the couch, further into the touch, practically purring all the way. And he could tell she was smiling, could tell her eyes were closed and everything else had completely evaporated from her mind.

He leaned down, leaned closer, and placed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

“Thank you for this, Futaba.” He whispered, making sure to pinch her chin between his thumb and forefinger as he moved again to leave. She let him leave, giving him one of those laughs that could never come from anyone but her; the sort of laugh that had her smiling as wide as possible, her eyes crinkling up at the corners and her nose wrinkled underneath the frames of her glasses as she made breathless little noises.

She leaped out of her seat then, the work on her laptop only momentarily forgotten as she squeezed herself as fully around Akira’s waist as she could.

“We’ll get her back.” She murmured.

Akira ran his fingers along her wrists. “Yeah… Yeah, we will.”

~~~

 _“Is there any guarantee that Akechi would bother to use the same room? Or the same building?” Ann worried, clenching her fists on and off in her lap. “Or even that he would do…_ that _, in the real world this time?”_

_Ryuji wasted no time agreeing. “Yeah, that’s… that’s a good point. Yer planning’ around what he did before, right? But he knows everything you know – ”_

_“He will.” Akira felt the frown spreading across his face as he spoke. He dropped his head in what he knew would be a useless attempt to hide it. “He’ll see the opportunity to kill me twice – in the same room, no less – as poetic. I ruined his life once, and he killed me for it. I forced him to relive that ruined life, and he’ll do – he’ll_ try _, to do it again. To make me live through that again.”_

 _“…But – but how d’you know that fer sure? Why’re you so willin’ to risk this whole effin’ whole plan – your_ life – _on that, man?” Ryuji had never worn worry so plainly as he was in that moment. Akira wasn’t sure what to do with the sight. “Like… don’t get me wrong, it ain’t that I don’t trust ya on this, ‘cause I do.” He went on, struggling to find some way to put his feelings into words. “But… You’re playin’ with a life that belongs to more than just you, ya know?”_

_Akira could only stare on in shock._

_“I mean… like… words’re hard for me, you know what I mean. Like, ugh.” Ryuji scratched at the back of his head, stumbling forward and rambling on, heedless to the understanding smiles slowly filling the room. “You’re – and we’re – you’re important. To us. We love ya. We’re worried. I’m worried. About you.”_

_And again, Akira stayed silent. Though only for a moment. He rolled his next words over and over again in his head._

_“Because we loved each other, that’s how I know. We loved each other before either of us realized the extent that we were tied up in all of…_ this _.” He admitted, gesturing around the room to emphasize his final word. The sharp blue in Ryuji’s eyes faltered, tinged with guilt. “I know him. He wants to hurt me.”_

_No one raised another issue with the plan. That answer was enough._

~~~

Makoto was still missing.

Though, Akira supposed, that wasn’t quite accurate. They knew exactly where she was, but they couldn’t risk moving her without painting an even bigger target on his back and dragging in everyone else.

He spent more than a few hours overnight wondering whether that truly even mattered anymore.

He could have stormed straight into that building through the metaverse, pulled Makoto out, and been done with it.

Futaba disagreed every time he so much as thought about bringing it up. It was important to her that they rescue Makoto without alerting anyone to anything being wrong. They didn’t know how many of Goro’s employers; how many members of the mysterious force he had tethered himself to were still alive. They could be watching. They needed to be patient. Goro claimed to have killed nearly all of them, but clearly just enough were kept alive to reenact the interrogation.

Even if it wasn’t Akira’s life on the line this time.

“Oh!”

Something clattered at his feet. _Hot… It’s hot._

“Oh my, young man…” Coffee. He dropped the old man’s coffee. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you looking so out of sorts before, did something happen?”

Akira stiffened.

“Maybe it has something to do with his little friend’s absence?” The man’s wife offered.

He needed to answer. He was staring. “L… let me clean this up. I’ll have another coffee for you in just a moment.”

Behind him, Ryuji and Ann spoke up. He didn’t even realize they were visiting.

“They got into a bit of a fight the other day and poor Akira here’s been feeling guilty ever since.” Ann commented, like nothing else in the world could possibly be the case.

Ryuji chimed in as Akira made his way back to the kitchen to dispose of the shattered pieces of ceramic. “Yeah. They’ll be fine, Miss Pres’ll be back here t’ keep you both company ‘fore ya know it.”

Akira let the rest of the conversation fade into the distance. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the willingness to salvage his mistake, but he wasn’t exactly in a state of mind to properly thank anyone. So instead he set himself to work preparing a fresh batch of coffee. A hand slipped over his own from across the bar some time before he was finished.

He looked up to see Ann smiling up at him, sympathy in her eyes and warmth in her touch. He’d given her that same look more times than he could count. He’d given _all_ of them that look.

A smile cracked at the edges of his lips.

He squeezed softly at her fingers. “Thank you.”

~~~

It wasn’t until the last customer of the day had gone home and Ann and Ryuji ushered him around the bar and into their favorite booth that Akira worked up the willpower to ask. “So…” He grumbled, still being urged along by firm hands on his back and arms circled around his. He knew what was happening. They wouldn’t let him go until he asked. “Why are you two here – ”

Ann gave him a scoff and a quick little slap on the back head as they all leaned closer. “Do you _really_ think I’d let you go on like this for an entire day? Do you think I’d let Ryuji _mope_ about you going on like this for an entire day?”

“H – hey, I wasn’t – ” Ryuji tried. Ann didn’t let him.

“Shhhhhshhhshsh.” A single finger pressed into his lips, too hard for anyone but Ryuji. “We know how much Makoto means to you, Akira. She’s important to us, and… _shit_ knows I’m worried out of my mind right now too; it’s not like Futaba is telling anyone anything about how things are going. Which is probably for the best… But…” Ann shook as she took a breath to center herself again. “But it hurts to see you like this after everything you’ve done for us.” She sighed and let herself collapse against Akira’s shoulder, then. “And you… I – _Ugh_ , I can’t do this. Akira. Makoto’s better at tearing into you with the big eyes and the stupid nervous act and comforting words and… we love you. You idiot. You and your big, stupid, fluffy head. Now stop trying to act like some kinda perfect, infallible superhero as if we don’t already know _exactly_ how hard this is on you. Idiot… _Idiot_.”

To Akira’s other side, Ryuji was slowly cracking apart into a million tiny pieces, each of them painted over with cackles and laughs.

So Akira joined in with a little wry smile. He bumped his head against Ann’s and let himself be shrugged away and into Ryuji’s waiting arms. They hugged, and they made up, and they cleaned the cafe together before heading upstairs.

Morgana, who was napping in Makoto’s seat all day and only woke in time to get out of the way of the cleaning – _to keep it warm for when she comes back_ , he answered – leaped onto Akira’s shoulder as they finally left for the attic. He butted the top of his head into Akira in the cheek and nuzzled close.

“Futaba,” Ann called. “Would you mind giving us some privacy for a bit?”

A head of messy orange hair and sleep deprived eyes popped up from behind the laptop. She hadn’t moved all day.

“…Why?” She asked, glaring between the three of them, suspicious.

Ann looked over, ruffling Akira’s hair with a smile before she walked over and took a seat. Ryuji seemed to understand that as some unspoken signal and led Akira to the bed. He could dimly make out the words _I don’t think Akira wants to look scared right now._

He couldn’t exactly disagree.

And Futaba’s face danced between confusion, understanding, and sympathy in an instant. “Okay.” She said, nodding and closing her laptop. Her eyes darted around the floor in front of her, desperately grasping for something to focus on. “I um… Could…”

“I’ll let you know the second he’s ready so you can come up here and let him have it.” Ann answered with a smile, no longer hiding her voice.

Futaba smiled a bit in return, but not one of them missed the hurt in her eyes as she turned to leave.

“…Akira” She mumbled from the top of the steps, refusing to turn around. “I told you already, but I’m getting her – I’m getting Makoto back. No one hurts my big sister and gets away with it.” And she stormed down the steps, leaving them all with that. Without even waiting for an answer. Morgana took off after her, leaping off the bed and yelling for her attention, eager to know every detail that he had missed.

“…I’ll have to apologize to her later.” Akira said. It wasn’t a question. Ryuji wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him closer, against his chest.

“Yeah.” Ryuji answered. “Don’t worry ‘bout it for now though. This is for you.”

“Mmm. Just rest.” Added Ann, sliding into the spot beside them at the very edge of the bed. It was cramped, like always, but cramped was always them. “And when you’re ready, we’ll be here to listen to everything you have to say”

Akira raised an eyebrow, pulling away just enough to look her way.

“What makes you think I…” He started, but the intense look of _Don’t you even think about trying that again._ in her eyes told him to stop while he was ahead. “Right. Okay. Sorry. It’s kind of a habit.”

“We know.” Ryuji teased, lowering Akira’s head into his lap. Ann lifted Akira’s legs and dropped them on top of her own in that same moment, the three of them settled together like that, a tangle of limbs and bodies resting against the wall. And Ann and Ryuji scratched and pet their separate ways up and down Akira’s legs, his chest, his shoulders, and even through his hair until he had finally let himself become agreeable enough to hold a conversation.

Akira let out a strangled moan as Ryuji found the space above his ears. “You know… it’s been awhile since we’ve had a chance to do this – just be close like this. I missed it.”

“…Hate t’ break it to you bud, but we’ve _never_ done this. Must’ve been somethin’ that happened before.” Ryuji smiled.

“We’ve spent nights together though, haven’t we? Just the three of us?” Akira shot back without hesitation, matching smirk on his lips.

“Sure.” Ryuji answered, and he ruffled his fingers through Akira’s hair, shoved it all down over his eyes. “But we’ve never had t’ force you into bed before. That’s new.”

Ann murmured from her spot at Ryuji’s shoulder, leaning closer and completing their huddle of too-big smiles and too-long touches. “Can’t say I hate it.”

“I guess you’re right, I just kind of…” Akira finally answered, brow furrowing through his joy as memories of the past came flooding out, drowning the rest of that sentence.

Ann gently scratched at his knee. “Do you want to tell us about it?”

“Yeah, man. I’d love t’ hear what kinda stuff we got up to together back then.” Ryuji added with a smile. Always another smile.

And Akira laughed a bit. He reached up to stroke his fingers slowly down Ryuji’s jaw.

“Sure. Yeah.” He whispered, moving to sit up before Ann and Ryuji both pampered him into laying back down. He gave up almost immediately. “We uh… It wasn’t too different from now. Everything was a lot scarier for me back when I had no clue what was happening – for all of us, really – so I wasn’t really able to be a ‘superhero’ for anyone.”

“Wait wait wait,” Ryuji sputtered, suddenly not wanting to hear another word. “We let you get away with it last time, too?”

“Mhm.” Was Akira’s short, simple reply.

Ryuji tapped him on the bridge of the nose with his knuckles. “Damn. Can’t believe ya convinced two versions of us t’ be okay with your shit.”

Akira chuckled into Ryuji’s shirt. “I think the last time at least, it was because all of us were scared. We were all just trying to survive and no one wanted to be the one to say ‘you’re handling this wrong’ so we just…” A sigh covered Akira’s slowly building tears, and he pushed them back down before continuing. “When things got too bad, the three of us would take a night, or an afternoon, or sometimes even an entire day and just… be together. Ignore everything else.”

“Do you ever miss that?” Ann asked along a quiet breath. “Being on the same page as all of us, I mean. Not having to keep any secrets or put up this stupid act of yours or anything.”

“Sometimes.” Akira laughed again at her question; a quiet, empty cough. “The three of us, back then… no matter what happened, we knew we always had each other. But I was still thrown into the position of leader – not that I regret it, not for a second – so I still did this to myself back then. The difference was that I had you two to snap me out of it every time. Even when the team started to grow and that behavior turned into me nearly killing myself to deal with it all; we were the first ones to go through all of this, so we knew how terrifying it could be. And… I… It meant that we were there to help each other cope, you know? Every new member or new friend after you guys was a little bit more one sided, every time.”

Akira’s voice had quieted to a whisper, and he sighed, turning back to Ryuji. “Every time I – we met someone new, it was just… different, you know? Not worse, never worse… I love each of you more than I could ever put into words… but it was just… _different_. It felt like I was never on equal footing with anyone after you guys. Always had to be the fearless leader. Always making sure everyone _else_ was okay, helping everyone over their problems from a few steps ahead rather than side by side.”

Ann nuzzled herself closer to Ryuji’s shoulder at that, holding Akira’s gaze all the way. She circled herself more fully around him and squeezed Akira’s knee when Ryuji leaned closer. When he pulled Akira closer.

“But I still had you two.”

“Guess…” Ryuji sighed. “Guess we didn’t exactly have no reason fer fallin’ back into this routine with ya.”

“Yeah. I’m thankful. I’m sorry.” A sniff escaped Akira. He knew they noticed.

“No, don’t, effin. Don’t apologize. It’s not like we’re gonna leave ya fer bein’ honest about how much ya care.” Ryuji gave him the time to work his tears down before asking his next question; the obvious question. “What about Makoto, though? I thought you two were… _you know_ , back then. Sounds like we mighta been gettin’ in the way of that.”

Akira only smiled and reached up to tug on the lobe of his ear. “Like I said. Different. I let her in faster than anyone else we met that year. She… the first thing I noticed about her was that she was like me. She was always thrust into being the boss whether she wanted that role or not. And it gave me the courage to let her in and, just, be myself.” He laughed, a little wry noise meant more for himself, more about the memories than anything else. “Still, I think there was always a side of me that only you two knew… that… I never felt comfortable showing anyone. Even her. At least, not until after I. You know.”

And Akira gestured vaguely around the room, his way of making the statement _Not until I died. Not until I was murdered_ as painless as possible. “I spent that final week closing myself off. Trying to be strong for all of you, refusing to accept anyone’s help. And that would have been bad enough, but I _also_ spent my final night with her just… pretending. Pretending everything was okay.”

Neither of his friends had anything to add as Akira bit his lip; as he looked past them both. Past the wall and the sky and past everything in the universe.

“My last words to her were a promise to come back.” He choked, not bothering to hold back the tremors in his voice or the tears behind his eyes anymore. “And when she told me this time around that I kept my promise? That I _did_ come back? I just… broke. I broke. And I let her see everything I kept from her.”

Akira tried to laugh. Something bitter and sarcastic, something upset with himself, upset with the world, that ridiculous prison he visited in his dreams; anything at all.

All he could manage was a single, strangled sob.

He felt Ryuji pull him up through his tears, felt Ryuji bury him in his arms while Ann wrapped around from behind and lowered the entire pile of bodies down. Each of them held on to each other as tightly as they could. “…I need her to be okay. I need to be able to protect all of you.” Akira cried, small and fragile and completely terrified of the future. “I can’t ruin everything twice.”

No one answered. No one offered any reassurances. Silence filled the room, only interrupted by the sounds of his bawling and the feeling of two pairs of hands and two strong bodies pressing close to Akira and trying their best to offer him even the smallest bit of comfort.

Ryuji brushed his hair away and kissed him on the forehead.

Ann brushed his hair away and kissed him on his shoulder.

And Akira continued to cry.

~~~

_…Hurts._

_It hurts…_

Her head dropped forward. Everything was dark. She couldn’t see.

_It… Where…_

She tried to breathe, to balance herself with a long, soothing in and out, but a sharp pain from her ribs sent her crashing forward. Her cheek slammed against something cold.

_A… a table?_

A loud, sudden noise startled her against the back of her chair, pouring light into the room along with it.

_Right… I’m… they wanted to hurt…_

A silhouetted figure stood framed by that light – tall and slender and with messy, messy hair – in what Makoto had begun to recognize as a doorway. He tilted his head in a gesture that felt so familiar that it made her blood sing.

_Home._

But then the figure smiled.

_Home. I have to get… I have to g –_

That wasn’t his smile.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not positive it's necessary, but I'm gonna err on the side of caution and say the first section of this chapter gets a big ol' content warning for abuse and violence. Bad Akechi.

“You…!” Makoto choked, falling immediately to a coughing fit and grasping at her chest in a futile attempt to ease the burning pain in her chest. Her vision began to spin.

One breath. Shaky. Unsteady. She wanted to cough again.

Two breaths. Steadier. Still scratchy. Her lungs were still on fire.

Three. She was back. As back to normal as she could have been in that moment, anyway.

“Me!” Akechi smiled as he stepped casually into the room, that fake smile and that fake voice and that fake fake _fake_ tilt of his head. He dropped the act once he knew for sure Makoto had seen.

He said nothing else for a long moment, choosing instead to look around the room. To step further inside and, evidently, do nothing but take in the details. He seemed almost confused. Or maybe he was just deep in thought. The drugs in Makoto’s system might have started fading, but they were still present enough to make such a distinction difficult for the moment.

“Would you like to know something?” He began again, continuing forward until he was gripping lightly at the chair across from Makoto. That awful brown in his eyes remained glued to hers. “I had two plans laid out for this encounter. For the longest time, I wasn’t sure which I would choose in the end… It took seeing this room again to decide.

His gaze dropped to the chair, then. It might have been enough of a move to hide his face, but it wasn’t enough to hide the disgust in his voice. “The first plan was to come here, and kill you, and be done with it. Naturally.”

“Naturally.” Makoto wheezed in response, her voice still heavy with so many different things. “What was – what was the second?”

“The second plan…” His eyes swept again across the room, before settling on his watch. Seconds passed. Maybe minutes. Time was difficult for Makoto; every part of her still pulsed with pain and her thoughts were still a blur. “Ah. Well then. We appear to have passed the hour in question, so let’s take a little trip together, shall we?”

Before Makoto could question what he meant, where they were headed, or even how he planned to take her anywhere in her condition, Akechi pulled his phone from his pocket and sent them straight back to the Metaverse. Back to the Palace. The wave of nausea that crashed into her with the transition nearly sent her toppling over and onto the floor, nearly sent whatever remained in her stomach flying onto the table.

“I don’t want the little one watching us.” He whispered, gesturing to the camera.

But she stayed strong.

Strong was all she had.

“Now, to answer your question.” Akechi began again, shifting on his feet and still refusing to sit. _Why won’t he sit?_ “The drugs you’ve been given come with the nasty side effect of muting the connection to your Persona, so please don’t assume I’ve brought you here to fight. I truly only wanted privacy.” He looked again to the chair, a sickening grin twitching at every muscle on his face. “It seems that we are finally free. The purgatory that the three of us became trapped in due to our mutual friend – and don’t think for an instant that I haven’t known about your memories this entire time, Miss Niijima, you two have hardly taken efforts to hide that little detail – that never-ending purgatory appears to have hit its end. Now, I realize it could be a specific action that is in fact the trigger for everything to reset once more, but I am ever the optimist. So I choose to believe that being allowed to move past the moment that I killed criminal mastermind Akira Kurusu is the proof of our freedom.”

“You… you talk too much.” Makoto grumbled, trying to retain some semblance of balance as she continued working to push her nausea down.

A single, sharp cackle filled the room. “Attitude, attitude! Anyway, my second plan. Do you recall our meeting in Kunikazu Okumura’s Palace?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Ah, I believe I’m beginning to see why that little kitten was so drawn to you!” Akechi laughed again, this time loud and long and unrestrained. The sound brought her queasiness threatening to return to the surface. The gun he pulled from his blazer finished the job. She heaved. The gun clattered as he pushed it to the table. “My apologies, what I’m getting at is – I mean to explain my reasons for being in that place before I was so rudely interrupted.”

Makoto’s breath snagged slightly in her throat, dread seeped into her every pore and strangled out anything else.

“The one good result to come from our… _circumstance_ s, was the chance to research something I had been curious about for some time.”

Her Persona was panicking. It told Makoto to run. To escape. To get as far away as possible until.

“I’m sure you know, Miss Niijima, of my powers to cause mental shutdowns through interaction with Shadows, yes?”

_Run._

“But I had never before,” Goro began again, picking the gun back up and toying with it for a time. He furrowed his brow for a moment and returned his gaze to Makoto, scratching at his head with the tip of the barrel. “I had never before considered what might happen if I were to try that power out on another Persona user. After all, I didn’t know there _were_ others until I met you all.”

_Run._

“The results were fascinating.” Akechi smiled, and his eyes bored directly into Makoto’s with that sentence.

_Run. Run. Run._

He lifted the gun from his head and waved the hand around, showy and nonchalant in his movements all at once.

The air between them buzzed, and if Makoto hadn’t been preoccupied with struggling to remain upright in her chair, she might have noticed her Persona screaming in pain. All of the air was crushed from her lungs, and they continued to be crushed even further. She felt as if the pressure on them, on her, on even the air around her would cause everything to burn to a crisp inside of her chest in some unstoppable, unquenchable flame. Breathing in didn’t work; breathing out didn’t work; trying to move, trying to grasp at her throat, none of it worked. It felt like death; the most intense pressure in the world was bearing down on every inch of her and filling her entire body with nothing but pain.

“When I was first given this power,” She just barely made out Akechi’s words as she lay writhing and gasping on the table. And then he snapped his fingers. The pain intensified. Her ribs started to creak and crack beneath the force Akechi was creating. They seemed to bend further and further in, and the sound overpowered nearly everything else. _Run. Run. You have to run._ Everything but the voice of her Persona. “Every instance of my using this trick turned out like this. There were no… _stages_ , I suppose, of effectiveness. There wasn’t even a method for fine tuning the level of pain! Only up, up, _up_. It was _very_ inconvenient, as you might imagine. Shadows can be useful, given a little push, but as I was still learning to control the power, I remained unable to turn it off. Which meant that push never remained a push. It was rather unfortunate.”

_Run. Run. Run._

Akechi made some new gesture with his hands, and Makoto buckled in on herself even further, even harder, until she thought the table and the chair and even the floor beneath her might have been caught up in it; that they might have been crushed to nothing along with her.

And then the pain stopped. Like it had never been there at all

And Makoto’s fell completely limp, nearly sliding off of the table. She gulped up as much air as she could. Over and over and over again, ignoring the lingering ache in her lungs, in her ribs and her head and her arms and her every single part of her. She laid there seeking out more and more air.

She felt Akechi finally take a seat. The vibrations of the chair sliding back and forth as he settled into place rang through her body. They reminded her of that searing pain.

One breath.

Two.

“Are you feeling better?” Came that horrible voice once again.

Makoto grunted between breaths.

“Good. Good. I’m not here to kill you after all, only to deliver a message.” Said Akechi.

“What – what? _What_?”

_What?_

“Hm. I have to admit, that’s not the reaction I expected.” He seemed disappointed, somehow. As if she cared in the slightest about his feelings. “Back to the plan, though. I’ve, obviously, since learned to fine tune that power – I’ll spare you another demonstration. I believe the first was effective enough. What this power does is drive Shadows, and as I have recently learned, Persona, to the brink of sanity.”

She nodded.

“It rips a Persona user’s control away, thread by thread until _it_ is the one in control.”

She nodded again. “So then, the drugs…”

“Yes. A failsafe of sorts.”

And Akechi put his gun away once more. Makoto had nearly forgotten about it. Evidently, he had as well. “I apologize for bringing this out, I only meant to ensure you didn’t forget that death was an option. Now then, my plan. No more stalling….” Akechi shifted back and forth in his seat, and eventually settled into what Makoto assumed was a more comfortable position. “In war – war of all kinds, really, even smaller wars between organizations that inhabit the same city – there are two methods to crush the enemy. First, is to kill members of the other side. The problem with this method however, is that a dead ally can simply be left behind and avenged. Had we continued on in our first timeline, I still would have won, but believe my decision would have revealed itself as this sort of failure. You would have caused us countless losses.”

Akechi sniffed, and repositioned himself again in his seat. “The second method, is to heavily injure your enemies – to bring them very near to death, to show them that fear – and let them go. They become, at that point, an inconvenience. A burden that your enemies refuse to let go. One that slows them down and makes them predictable. A blow to morale that crushes the enemy from the inside out.”

“…You still talk too much.” Makoto sighed, closing her eyes to hold out against the newest spell of dizziness. “Why tell me any of this?”

That smile. That disgusting, sickening smile returned to Akechi’s face when her eyes slid open.

“Because none of you will be able to stop me. Because I want you to tell Akira; my goal isn’t just to kill him. I want him to hurt. I offered him the easy way out and he refused! This is the least he deserves. All of this is in service of showing him the intimacy of the pain he could have avoided.”

Makoto’s vision swam, her head bobbed just a bit.

“A successful escape will depend on you, I believe you _will_ escape from here, Miss Niijima. And I also believe our time together is almost up. All I ask is that you relay my message to our friend.” Akechi hummed, rising from his seat. He paused, hands still on the table and eyes still on her. “I can give you another taste of my fun little trick, if you would rather refuse me. Like he did.”

“No.” Makoto shuddered. “No, I’ll… I’ll tell him.”

“Good. Now, I would prefer not to run into the friend that you have stationed out in the hall, so I’ll be leaving the way I came.” Akechi tapped away at his phone, and the two of them returned to reality.

Akechi called again, just before leaving her alone in that cold, metal room. “I’m off to finish separating myself from my former employers now that this is over with. Do take care, Makoto. I would hate to learn that my faith in your escape was misplaced.”

~~~

Minutes passed. Maybe hours.

Sae walked through the door.

“You.” She blinked. She froze. She glared.

And Makoto’s heart dropped to the bottom of her chest exactly as it had months ago.

~~~

Something heavy clattered to the floor in the cafe, and Akira’s eyes shot open at the sound.

“Guys…. guys! Guys, hey!”

He sat, or, _tried_ to sit, but the pair of blondes collapsed on top of him were making movement more than a little difficult. He wasn’t sure when they found time to gather up every blanket in the attic. He didn’t even realize there were so many. “Uh… Taba?”

“C – can I come up?” Futaba called again, that vague tinge of anxiety still on the edge of her voice. “I don’t wanna… walk in. On anything.”

Akira chuckled and sighed in relief. “Yeah, yeah it’s fine. I’m just a little trapped right now, is all.”

The sound of her footsteps spilled into the attic as she rushed up the stairs. She cleared the distance across the room in only a few steps. And then she was standing at the edge of the bed, wringing her hands around the sides of her phone and working up the courage to ask her next question.

“Are… um…” She started, unable to meet Akira’s eyes. Until she was. “Are you feeling better?”

A smile filled Akira’s face. He nodded and worked one of his hands free enough to reach out for her.

When she took his hand, when she returned his smile and squeezed softly at his fingers, he knew she believed him.

“Then, here.” She offered him her phone, even though it meant having to let go of his hand. “A whole lot just happened over the course of like, minutes? Minutes – and Yusuke wanted to be the one to tell you. Since he was there. I… I think he has a lot he wants to say, honestly.”

After a bit of work, Akira was sitting on the edge of the bed with Futaba collapsed into his side, and their two – still very fast asleep – friends were practically wrapped around each other and tucked away underneath a mountain of plush, mystery covers. He _really_ had no idea where they came from.

“Sorry for the wait, Yusuke. What happened?” He asked.

“Ah, there you are.” Replied Yusuke. His grin carried through in his voice, and Akira could only assume he heard enough of the struggle to work himself free to know what happened. “So, as Futaba stated, there has been a development.”

Akira took an unsteady breath.

“Makoto is not in the… She’s not doing well. Whatever happened to her has taken its toll, and she is going to need assistance.”

“Y…Yusuke?” He asked, again. This time less sure of what exactly that question meant.

“She is coming home, Akira. Or, rather, she’s coming to Leblanc. Futaba has been tracking her phone this entire time in addition to keeping an eye on the surveillance footage, and her sister is currently transporting her to the cafe. As for why _there_ , we’re not entirely sure. According to Futaba, nothing in their conversation indicated that this would be a potential outcome. Makoto must have done something truly impressive to manage this outcome on her own. But she _is_ safe, and that’s what matters.”

Akira’s throat worked. A fist clenched into the sheets. “She…?”

“Yes. She is alive.”

Two years worth of stress practically evaporated Akira’s body in that instant. He exhaled something more of a sob than a sigh, and he nodded. Once, twice, again even though he knew Yusuke couldn’t see.

“Good.” He shuddered as Futaba wrapped her arms tight around his waist. “Good, I… you should tell me the rest of what you wanted to say because I don’t think I’ll be in any condition to talk in a second here.”

A deep, exhausted stream of chuckles rumbled through the speakers. Futaba hummed and Akira pulled her closer. “Fair enough. We all agreed – in private, and we will each apologize for making this decision behind your back if you deem it necessary – that you would need company to see you through the final hours of this… _situation_.” Yusuke paused then, seemingly waiting for some sort of scolding. Or at least an indication that Akira thought they were in the wrong. They weren’t. “…And while we may have agreed that those two would be able to do the most good for you, know that I or Haru – and Futaba, more than any of us – would have been at your side in a flash had you asked it.”

“I… thank you. Thank you, Yusuke.” Akira’s smile grew even wider. Bigger than he thought possible. “Thank you. I think I needed to hear that.”

“Do not forget that we love you, Akira.”

“I won’t. I won’t ever forget that… I love you too, Yusuke. And Haru! Tell Haru.”

“I will be sure to relay your message. In the meantime, I believe you have someone you need to prepare to welcome back.”

“Yeah…” Akira laughed, light and faint. “Yeah. Thank you. Thank you, Yusuke.”

“Take care, Akira.”

He threw the phone onto the bed and held Futaba as tightly as he could before Yusuke even ended the call.

~~~

Every bit of joy was gone from Akira’s eyes as he paced back and forth outside Leblanc. He knew what to expect; he had lived through that side of things himself, and found his hands tracing the invisible lines of long vanished scars in the dense silence of those last few minutes. He knew what to expect. But that didn’t change the fact that he was not the one who had been tortured to the edge of life and left alone in that ice-cold room. Everything was different. And the absence of those scars was a harsh reminder of the mistakes that led to those differences.

The mistakes that led to Makoto being put in danger.

He ordered Ryuji and Ann to Takemi – to the doctor’s home. Her office had closed hours ago but she lived in the area and Akira knew she would help. They left with nods and hugs and without out a word.

Futaba remained inside, prepping towels and digging around for a first aid kit and anything, _anything_ that might be helpful.

“ _Where is she._ ” Akira growled at the first sound of a car parking around the corner.

The words left his mouth as soon as Sae stepped onto the street. He didn’t wait for an answer and she didn’t give one. It wasn’t really a question in the first place.

A hand flopped against his waist just as he opened the door.

_Makoto…_

He swallowed hard at the sight laid out in front of him. But he didn’t freeze, he didn’t slow, he didn’t stop. Akira climbed inside and crammed himself into onto the floor of the car. Just far enough to see her face, just far enough to hold her hand delicately between both of his own.

“Aki…” Makoto moaned, her voice small and raspy, practically drenched in pain.

“I’m here.” Pressing a kiss to her knuckles, Akira whispered against the bruised and bloodied skin. “I’m right here for you, Makoto.”

“Aki, I did it…” She sighed, before flinching in pain. “…I made it…”

A cough broke free as he began to lift her out of the seat. They needed to get back to their bed. She needed somewhere better than the back seat of a car to lay down. “I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful, Mako…”

Somewhere around the corner, somewhere between that car and Leblanc, Makoto whispered into his ear. He could hear the bittersweet joy in her voice.

“We match…!”

And this time, Akira froze. The ghosts of his lost scars began to throb as if he had never lost them at all.

The world ceased to feel real. Time flew by, and barely any of it registered in his mind because all he could hear was those two little words repeating themselves over and over. The doctor arrived and began her work. She let Akira stay at Makoto’s side, even offered Futaba the same chance, but she fled down the steps the moment she was finished delivering everything asked for. Akira kept Makoto’s knuckles pressed to his lips through nearly the entire process.

“Nothing seems to be broken… and she should be okay for the night as long as you stay with her.” The words felt distant, almost like a dream. “I’ll leave you some painkillers for her to start using tomorrow after those drugs are out of her system. Oh, and if – and this is a _big_ if – she can handle it, your girl here needs a bath. Don’t make her sleep covered all that blood.”

_We match._

“And… Akira. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon to check up on her. You don’t have to worry about handling this alone.”

_We match._

He recognized the sounds of Tae leaving, the sounds of Sae coming up the stairs in her place, Futaba and Morgana in tow. She explained everything she could, to the best of her abilities, and she wanted answers. But she knew it wasn’t the time.

“…According to her, there likely won’t be anyone left to keep you under surveillance in a few hours.”

_We match._

“I’m hesitant to admit this, given everything you two have kept hidden from me… But Makoto believes that the safest place in the world right now is next to you. And frankly, despite everything, I believe her. So I’ll trust you. Keep her safe.”

_We match._

_…We do, don’t we?_

“Akira?” The most fragile whisper he had ever heard pulled Akira from his thoughts.

He was still sitting in the same seat. Still holding Makoto’s hand. His phone died hours ago, he couldn’t check the time.

But Makoto was awake. And she was smiling. It was small and broken and ready to shatter, just like her voice, but she was _smiling_. “Akira… we made it through. It’s not yesterday anymore!”

Akira bit down hard on his lower lip, but the tears came regardless.

“Mmm.” He nodded. “We did.”

~~~

“Akira,” Makoto grumbled, her voice heavy with stress, and fatigue, and any endless number of things. “Aki, I think – I think I want to go clean up.”

She heard Akira sniff himself out of whatever daze he was in, just as she felt his fingers meet her hairline. For a time he only sat, a distant look in his eyes as he brushed slowly through her bangs; Makoto knew she could have stopped him, could have spoken up again, but there was something in his eyes that held her voice frozen, waiting on the edge of her tongue. She could see it in the soft, tired expression he wore. For the first time since their reunion so many months ago, she saw the long days that he endured for even the smallest possibility of chance to see her again. She could see the fear that his own capture unearthed as clearly as if it had never been lost at all.

“Yeah. Of course.” He finally replied, and she could hear the ache he so desperately tried to keep from his voice.

But even still, his touch was as tender as ever as he helped her from the bed, taking a seat alongside her until she was ready to move, pulling her firmly against his side. And when he draped her arm over the back of his shoulders, when he moved to stand – making absolutely sure that he carried the weight for her bad leg – she took a short moment to scratch gently, gently at the space under his ear. The grin that tugged at his lips didn’t escape her notice.

Neither did his continuing refusal to meet her eyes as they worked toward the stairs.

“Careful.” He whispered, as they reached the bottom.

Again, as he led her inside the bathroom. “Careful.”

Through the sliding glass door. “Careful.”

But as they both stood together on the cool tile floor, as he slowly, tenderly, _delicately_ , lowered her onto the stool just in front of the showerhead, Akira said something else. “I’m here. You’ve got this.”

“Aki…” Makoto whispered, watching him kneel carefully in front of her, watching as he placed one hand on each thigh. As he finally, _finally_ met her eyes.

She reached out for him, brushed her thumb along the shape of his lips until he was moving on his own and tilting his head further and further into her palm.

“I should give you some privacy.” He sighed, and she worked her fingers up and down the line of his jaw.

_No. Stay with me._

But Akira made no attempt to leave. He stayed there on his knees, melting into her touch and refusing to lift his hands from their place even the smallest amount.

When she slid her hand down to cup his chin between her thumb and forefinger, his bared down just a fraction harder on her thighs. She gasped at the heat of his touch. He whispered again. “…I should really go.”

_Please stay…_

“I’ll be just outside. Call for me the _second_ you need something and I’ll be here, okay?”

But Makoto couldn’t agree. It felt as if her heart was slamming against her chest, in her ears and through every vein in her body. Not even the feeling of him falling further into her touch to kiss every single fingertip and every single knuckle seemed enough to pull it back to its proper place. She wondered if he could hear it. If he could feel it. She wanted him here. She wanted to know that she was back, and that she was safe and that she could reach out and touch him, and hold him with her hands and in her arms to have her proof. That she could take each and every one of those reassurances and give them back, a gift to begin repairing the walls that they had worked so hard to build against the fear of their loss.

But she knew perfectly well that Akira was trying his best. And she knew that leaving her alone was not a decision made lightly. He was giving her his trust, not abandoning her to solitude.

He wasn’t leaving her, but she still didn’t want him to go.

She _couldn’t_ let him go.

“Aki…” Makoto called. Her throat caught on a cough and sent her into a fit, the pain in every part of her body flaring to life with every new spasm. His hands were around her back and his forehead pressed to hers before she could blink. “I can’t... I need you here. To help.”

Akira quirked an eyebrow, and all Makoto could think to do was smile up at him. To push through the heaviness and the pain in her throat and remind him that he didn’t need to hide from any of it because she was finally _back_ , and she wanted to take that fact and sear it behind both of their eyes. “With my clothes, dummy… And washing. I’m not – not exactly in a state to do this myself.”

Realization dawned on Akira’s face, and he smiled too. He returned to his earlier position, and dropped his face slowly into her lap. He breathed out the tiniest of laughs. So small that Makoto barely even felt the puff of breath on her legs. But she did. And it was still so loving and genuine that it warmed his voice in rich, powerful waves as he began to speak again. “Sorry. Sorry. I’m just, I think I’m in shock. Over today.”

“Nooo, no more apologies, Aki.” Makoto giggled as her hands drew themselves into his hair as if drawn by some invisible force to scratch and to play.

Akira laughed. Again. And his voice pitched just a bit deeper. “This is just, a lot. Yesterday was a lot and today was a lot and I’m hitting my limit, Mako. I can barely think straight anymore.”

“Well I have good news. Want to hear?” She asked, nearly a whisper, and Akira raised his head again with a sigh and a sleepy little smirk. “Aki. I can reach out and touch you. I can feel your hair in my hands. And I can feel your warmth on my skin. And I can know it isn’t a dream. Because I’m _here_.”

“You are.” He breathed, rising back to his feet and leaning closer and closer. His eyes were such a bright, vibrant silver in that moment that they nearly looked like the palest shades of blue. “Welcome back.”

Akira’s lips tasted like home. And they yielded to her every whim even as they led her along.

Akira’s hands felt like home. They felt like home as one groped gently up the edge of her thigh to settle on the shape of her hips. As the other rose higher and higher, finding its home at the nape of her neck to become a sturdy, steadying force.

And when he finally pulled away, the both of them grinning against each other’s mouths and just barely panting for breath, Makoto said nothing.

She said nothing as he helped her strip, carefully folding up her clothes and placing them safely in a corner on the other side of the glass. She could have tried to hide herself, she could have given even a second of effort to turning away, to an attempt to cover her new scars and bruises as he crossed the room to start running the water for her bath, but there was something in Akira’s eyes telling her it was completely unnecessary.

There was something in the way he pressed his lips to her shoulder, once he had circled behind to finally begin helping her. Something in the way he carried himself. He wasn’t scared, anymore. And so they worked together slowly, silently, to wash away the nightmares of the past two years. Makoto nearly lost herself to sleep as Akira carefully, lovingly threaded his fingers through her hair, lathering and washing until she was completely limp and practically melting into his chest. The occasional scrape of a nail across her scalp sent shivers sparking through her spine. Eventually he slid further back, still cradling her head in a hand, and she worried he might have left until the feeling of cold water crashed over her.

Makoto stayed silent through it all in a desperate attempt to lose herself in the intimacy of the moment. That sort of calm, mundane togetherness that they had never been allowed when their concerns over the Metaverse and their past, worries about other timelines and the threat of death were flying bye at a mile a minute.

Akira seemed to understand the sentiment perfectly, even share it, as he urged her forward into her own balance once again and slid around to her front. He started with a shoulder, gingerly rubbing a newly lathered towel up and down, back and forth until all of the dirt and every scrape and every cut had been dealt with. His movements became softer as he reached her hand, holding it between both of his own and dragging his thumbs back and forth. He cleaned the blood from every tip of every finger, and even the soft skin between.

Makoto watched on as he finished, placing her palm into her lap and beginning the routine once again with her other arm. A thought raced through her mind, as she watched him cherishing every little detail of her body.

_I want to be closer._

She rolled it over and over as he washed her stomach and her chest, as he moved to her sides, and even as he tapped at her elbows with his fingers to ask that she move them out of the way.

_I need to be closer._

When he held his face less than a breath from her own and reached slowly forward to start cleaning her back, Makoto made her decision. One that Akira seemed to be waiting for. She dropped her arms and draped them over his shoulders.

And she pulled him close.

He followed without the slightest hint of hesitation, allowing Makoto to bury his face against her neck and drench all of his clothes – and even his hair – in soapy water.

“Come take a bath with me, Aki.” She murmured, nuzzled into his curls and suddenly aware of the tears fighting for freedom at the edges of her vision. “…I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He replied, quietly.

Makoto loosened her grip enough to signal her intent, and she waited, watching as Akira stepped away to stop the faucet and remove his clothes. She followed him every step of the way as he led her to the bath, and followed him further as he stepped inside first to guide her in after. Only after they settled comfortably together in the water, her shoulder pressed into his chest and her head resting underneath his chin did she speak again.

“We match.” Her tears finally began to escape.

Akira circled his arms tighter around her then. And he kissed the top of her head, raising a wet hand to brush through her hair and settle at the crook of her neck. “We do.”

She could feel him beginning to cry.

“You’re home.” Akira told her.

A smile peeked through her stifled cries, and she nodded against his skin, yawning. “I am, I’m home.”

Akira kissed her again.

And Makoto looked up at him. She took in every line and every shape of his face. Every little detail that told her Akira was there, and real, and hers, and her heart filled near to bursting as she did, because she was _home_. “Aki, can I tell you something?”

“Of course.” He replied, his brow drawing down into that adorable expression he wore whenever he thought something serious was coming.

“I… I love you.” She started slowly. “And I’m glad you’re okay. I mean, I know I’m the one who… but…”

Akira nodded. His grip tightened again.

“But I missed you so much. All I wanted was to come back to you. You and your cute face, and your beautiful eyes, and your wonderful, _wonderful_ coffee… and your love for way-too-spicy curry – ”

“It’s _good_.” He chided, half-hearted and all smiles.

And she smiled too. And they laughed together. Because she was home.

“We…” Makoto let out another yawn. “We should talk about what happened.”

She felt him nod, his face still nuzzled close. “We should. But not now.”

“But – ”

“I missed you, just… I‘m sorry. I just want to enjoy this for as long as I can. Nothing else matters to me right now”

“Aki… you _have_ to understand by now that I don’t need your apologies.” She leaned back as far in his arms as she could until she was staring him straight in the eyes.

And Akira smiled. Again. He leaned forward, and he kissed her, and he smiled. “Sorry.”

Makoto brushed their noses together with a grumble and a poorly faked pout, and Akira continued smiling. He smiled wide and bright as she tucked herself back underneath his chin.

“I love you.” He whispered, and he buried his nose in her hair.

Makoto felt the beginnings of a response building in her throat, but the only noise she could manage was a final, all-consuming yawn. Because she was home. Because Akira’s arms were comfortable. And because the water was so perfectly warm. And she, no longer able to fight back against the stress of the past two days or of the past two years while she had Akira’s arms holding her tight, sunk into a deep, deep sleep. One more peaceful, one more _right_ than any she had had in what felt like a lifetime.

“Sweet dreams.” She heard, just as the last strands of her consciousness began to slacken. “I’ll be right here with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more note, also, I'm running with the assumption that Leblanc is a converted house, and as such, has a normal house bathroom. The alternative leads to some weird gross "what was Akira even doing to stay clean before he learned about the bathhouse across the street?" scenarios that I don't really feel like entertaining at all. Ever.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, this chapter had a big unexpected delay on it, sorry about that! I meant to get it posted days ago, but this is a dense chapter in a way previous ones haven't been, so there was a whole lot of fiddling.
> 
> Better late than never, I guess!

Makoto’s hair was still damp underneath Akira’s fingers.

He couldn’t remember how long they stayed bathing together. He couldn’t remember how long it had taken to dry her off, to pull one of his shirts over her head and tuck her back into the safety of their bed. He couldn’t even remember how long it had taken him to finally step away from that chair, and slink over to the couch with one of the spare blankets in an attempt to rest his eyes.

It didn’t matter though, he felt far too restless to stay there for long.

So he returned to her side, taking note that the sun still hadn’t risen and that he still had no idea what time it was as he stroked the tips of his fingers across Makoto’s hairline. At first, she cooed and hummed underneath his touch, comforted by his presence alone. But time passed, and he lost the ability to reach across that distance to touch her in her dreams. And eventually, something broke. A small whimper and a smaller tremble broke free, driving an icy jolt through Akira’s every vein.

He would have been lying if he said he hadn’t expected it; truthfully, he was waiting for it. But that didn’t make the reality any harder to deal with. Makoto never made noises in her sleep, and seeing her like that – because of him – hurt. He recognized that whimper with the same crystal clarity that kept him from forgetting even a single one of his once lost injuries, newly appeared on Makoto’s body. It was no longer his trauma alone; no longer something that he allowed Makoto to glimpse and to soothe during the few stretches of time he felt safe enough to do so. Now, it was theirs.

Now that fear, that hurt, and that desire to hide were feelings they both shared. Feelings they both understood and feelings they both could confront.

And Akira accepted that fact with open arms. Because he knew he could count the number of times he failed to keep his promises – the promise to stop hiding, especially – on both hands. And it still wouldn’t cover every one of his failures to grant her that trust. But there would be no more room for hiding after that night. After that day. Makoto saw and felt and suffered through every inch he had and more. Honesty was always the absolute least she deserved, and moving forward, that same honesty so carefully doled out as Akira felt comfortable would need to be freed in its entirety. It would be that honesty that held them together. Far closer than their fears and anxieties ever had. Because despite it all, this time, they were together.

They made it out. Together.

He cradled her cheek, tracing his thumb along some invisible pathway that only he could see. But she thrashed in response; she groaned and she sobbed and she moved until she was practically leaping up in the bed and gulping unsteadily for air. At first, Makoto didn’t seem to recognize where she was, but Akira’s hands were already returning to their former places. The calloused pads of his fingers slid up and along the line of her jaw, and Makoto gasped, trembling. She squeezed her eyes shut. She covered his hands with her own.

And she waited.

And Akira waited with her.

And when her eyes finally opened once again, Akira saw recognition settled safely between her worry and her fear.

“I guess…” She whispered, hoarse and still lined with the faintest of trembles. “I guess you know what this feels like, don’t you?”

Akira nodded slowly.

Makoto sighed and reached out for Akira, pulling him until he sat on the edge of the bed, wrapped close and tight and all the way around her. “Aki… I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you after everything. When this happened to you. This is – you…”

He cut off her sentence with a kiss. Her lips were dry, they were cold and shaking, but she melted into the contact as soon as it came, and they stayed together like that until they were doing nothing but holding that pose, savoring the soft press of lips on lips and hands over hands.

“You’re here _now_. We’ll help each other through this _now_ , okay?” Akira murmured still holding himself there, his words ghosting over her mouth only once he knew Makoto’s breath had steadied. Once he knew that her lips were as warm and as calm as the rest of her.

And Makoto nodded, too. She let herself fall slowly back against the mattress, supported every inch of the way by Akira’s hands.

“Were you sleeping on the couch?” A yawn prefaced her question, making it sound only slightly less concerned than it was no doubt meant.

“I tried, anyway.” Akira smiled, still sitting on the side of the bed. Still brushing through her bangs, still petting and calming and trying to draw out as many little purrs and mumbles of satisfaction as he could. “I was waiting for you to… this.”

Another silent, steady nod. “Come here.”

“Makoto, I’ll have to let Sojiro know what happened soon. It might be easier if I stay – ”

She didn’t give him the chance to finish. “Then you’ll go deal with that when you have to. But I want you here until then… I sleep better when you’re next to me.”

“I might wake you up, you know? I don’t want to hurt you.” Akira smirked back at her, resigned. He was already climbing to squeeze himself between her and the wall.

“I’d rather be woken up by you than another nightmare, Aki.” She whispered, trying to tease. But her voice was still strained, still rough and low and Akira couldn’t help but smile at the act she put on even as she curled closer against him, like a cat bathing in the sun.

Akira’s legs tangled with hers. His palm settled gently over her breast. “Is this okay?”

A sleepy, happy moan, and a bright, _bright_ smile served as his answer.

“…Hey, Aki?” Makoto asked, shifting to use Akira’s free arm as her pillow and filling his vision with her shining, crimson eyes.

“Hmm?”

“I want to kiss you again.” She admitted as she brushed against his lips, and Akira could feel his every muscle relax as she spoke, as if he had been the one hurt; as if she was the one who stayed up all night, soothing his injuries away. Because even as pained as she was, Makoto could still use all those little rises and drops in pitch like an instrument only she knew how to play, and one designed for the purpose of stringing Akira, specifically, along to her every whim.

And if she wanted a kiss, who was he to argue?

“You should.” Akira was breathless. He could only hope his voice had even a fraction of that effect on her.

“Very badly, actually.” She whispered noncommittally, turning her gaze toward the stairs like she was barely asking for anything, even as Akira pressed himself closer and closer.

“You _should_.”

He smiled, and Makoto closed the last breaths of distance.

It was lazy and slow, when their lips reconnected. Languid and aimless and in no rush at all. Because they had each other, and they had all the time they needed. Makoto took Akira’s bottom lip slowly between her teeth, and Akira sighed the tiniest of laughs in return. That feeling of closeness had wiped everything else from Akira’s mind. He could barely remember anymore why he stayed up all night. Could barely remember why he refused to sleep in the same bed, as she squeezed her teeth down just a bit harder, and smiled just a bit wider.

“Thank you.” Makoto murmured with a grin, planting a single little peck to Akira’s nose before she sank back against the bed. “I love you.”

And for the remainder of their night, Akira and Makoto stayed together; a pair of wounded creatures searching for even the tiniest shreds of warmth and comfort in each other’s embrace and instead finding more than they could ever need. Akira knew that things wouldn’t magically be fixed the next morning, but for then; for the night; knowing that Makoto was still there in his arms was enough.

That he could finally go to sleep, knowing exactly what would be there in the morning, was enough.

~~~

The sun had already risen.

Akira knew he would eventually need to explain the situation to Sojiro, but he was prepared. He made sure not to wake Makoto as he rose and dressed and returned to his chair.

He was prepared.

In the meantime, he allowed himself to continue breathing deep from the source of comfort Makoto offered, even in her sleep. Because he knew that in accepting such a small glimpse of respite from the endless months of fear and death and betrayal, he was giving her the same opportunity. He might still be broken, and he might have made a mistake so cruel that it resulted in Makoto being dragged down to shatter alongside him, but they still had each other. No matter how broken they were, the shattered pieces of their hearts fit together like a puzzle finally solved. Just as they always had.

Just as, Akira hoped, they always would.

His attention drew to the bare skin of her shoulder, then. He traced his fingers along a dark bruise. He recognized that bruise. And before he realized it, his fingers were at his own shoulder, gripping loose as his eyes lost focus and his mind drifted through memories of his own capture.

His grip tightened, just barely.

“Hm hm hm…” Came a voice from behind. Morgana lept into his lap with a grin and spun his way to a more comfortable seat. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, showing up without announcing myself. I even brought a guest!”

Akira turned to find Sae standing just a few steps behind, her eyes trained on Makoto.

“…I explained things your guardian to the best of my ability when I arrived, earlier.” She said. There wasn’t the slightest trace of an edge in her voice. “Judging by his response, you two already made him aware enough of what might happen.”

Akira smiled slowly. “Would you like a seat? Ah – ”

He stood immediately, dropping Morgana onto the foot of the bed and paying no mind to the upset yowl he received in response, as he gathered up the pillow and comforter still rumpled on the couch.

“I uh… if you’d prefer a chair, I can get you another.” He spoke over his shoulder, folding and smoothing and trying to make enough room to sit. “So you can be next to Makoto, I mean.”

“That would be nice. Thank you.” Sae replied.

And when she was finally situated next to Akira, next to the bed and next to Makoto, she asked her question.

She wanted her answers.

“…It isn’t that I don’t trust you, I left her here for a reason. But… the Makoto I saw in that room and the Makoto that exists around you, both of them are so different from the naïve girl that I could have sworn still existed. It’s as if I turned away for one second and she grew up without me. What… what did you do to her? What happened to my little sister?”

“It’s not a very fun story.” Akira promised, forcing the words past a sardonic laugh.

Sae’s concern left him with no more room to joke. “With all due respect, Akira, I will be the judge of that.”

“Alright then. She wasn’t – isn’t… It’s probably a good thing you’re sitting. I’m guessing if you still have to ask, she left a few details out of her story.”

Akira explained everything.

He commented that he never seemed to have a break from explaining, lately, even pausing a moment to wonder if that was the price for his second chance at life; the never-ending need to explain his past sins and his every failure to almost everyone he came into contact with.

He explained his first year in Tokyo. His time with Makoto, and their investigation into the goings on in a certain corner of Shinjuku. He explained his time with all of them. With each member of his family. His death and his second chance and every one of his second first-meetings. He explained everything that Makoto could not possibly have explained, and every detail he knew Sae would want to hear about the beginnings of their relationship until there was nothing else to say at all.

“I tried. I really did.” Akira smirked, small and wry as he returned to brushing through Makoto’s bangs. His expression grew slightly more genuine when Morgana returned to his lap, and one of his paws pressed against Akira’s wrist. A silent reassurance. “I _really_ tried to avoid the people I should have avoided.”

He dimly recognized a matching smile crack at the edges of Sae’s lips on the edge of his vision. He tucked away that feeling of pride over his story breaking through her defenses for later. “But not her?”

“…I could never stay away from Makoto.” Akira sighed, and his eyes lost focus. He blinked away the feeling bubbling up in his throat, but his eyes remained glassed over and unseeing. “We studied together. A lot. And at first, we _only_ studied together. Both because every other student in that library felt the need to soundtrack our evenings, and because it never crossed my mind for a second that she might recognize me.”

“And, I guess, because I didn’t trust myself to do anything else.” He added, his voice growing even smaller. “…I missed her so much.”

Sae’s answer came quiet, and even brushed against the edges of fearful. “…I assume she did, eventually. Recognize you, that is.”

“Mmm.” Akira nodded. “…You would have to ask her exactly when it all started, but apparently the more time we spent together like that – the more time I spent together refusing to acknowledge everything that happened – the more she started to remember. And the more she tried to ignore it, the stronger those memories became. Until…”

_She seemed so small, even as she clung to his shirt. Even as she peeled away his collar and kissed the bare skin of his neck in some half-baked gesture of realization over what she was feeling. He hoped she would never pull away. He wanted to pull her close and never let go._

_He wanted to pick her up and carry her into room at her back. He wanted to lock the door and show her_ exactly _what he knew, and_ exactly _how real all of her feelings were. He wanted too much._

The pads of Akira’s fingers dragged down the side of Makoto’s face, until he was rubbing his knuckles gently back and forth against her cheek. She murmured some sleepy not-quite-words of satisfaction before returning to the depths of her dreams. “By the time I finally noticed, she was – _miserable_ probably isn’t a strong enough word. She tracked me down here at the cafe completely out of the blue and she… she could barely stand up straight, and she was so pale and she looked so fragile and terrified and all she was sure about was that somehow, I was important to her. And all _I_ was sure about was I didn’t have the first idea how to help, other than to promise over and over that I would find some way to fix it.”

“That’s… Okay. Okay, That’s enough.” Whispered Sae. Her eyes were firmly on Akira. “I’m sorry, I never suspected that you two had such a painful… you’ve been through a lot, to say the least. Two years’ worth of a lot, apparently. I – I’m sorry for being suspicious of your motivations.”

A chuckle forced it’s way past Akira’s lips.

“You had every right to be.” He made a soft tilt of the head as he answered, taking in every detail of Makoto’s face. “I’m just a simple criminal with eyes for the student council president, after all.”

Sae didn’t answer. She did, however, scowl.

But Akira knew perfectly well the look had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with the situation that he and Makoto both found themselves trapped in. There was nothing but sympathy in her eyes.

At first, Sae returned to watching over Makoto, letting silence fill the room all over again.

She didn’t last long. “There’s something else, something important, that I’d like to discuss with you before Makoto wakes up. It’s the main reason I’m here today, actually.”

~~~

Two details were immediately obvious as Makoto opened her eyes. The first, was that it was night; she dimly recognized that she had slept through the entire day. The second, was that Akira’s smile was breathtaking.

“Hey, you.” His lips quirked up into an easy smile. “Sleep well?”

“Mmm. Very.” Makoto moaned softly, she stretched, and rolled over onto her side as best she could. Everything still hurt.

That smile might have been enough to cure her on its own, on any other day. Though, his lips brushing against hers in a silent question of permission certainly helped her to forget well enough; so did the press of his lips on hers; so did the sight of his smile, still spread across his face as he pulled away, still crinkling at the corners of his eyes as he hovered inches above her. And she might have been embarrassed by how quickly she licked her lips they parted were it not for the fact that she truly felt as if it was curing her every problem. It wasn’t, she knew, but pretending felt _so_ nice.

“We – Futaba and the others found something out when you were asleep.” Akira stopped hovering, he picked his hands up from her sides and returned to his chair as he explained. His smile didn’t falter for an instant. “It’s good news.”

It even grew wider as Futaba practically leaped up from behind him with both hands latched to his shoulders. “ _Really_ good news! B – by the way, you two gotta get a handle on time and place for this sorta thing.”

“Futaba. _Taba_.” Makoto coughed out a giggle. “We’re in _our_ room. And it’s nighttime. This is the perfect time and place.”

Futaba quietly grumbled out her disagreement. “ _Still…_ ”

“Anyway.” A hand on Futaba’s back to urge her forward came with Akira’s addition. “Taba, can you tell her what you told me?”

“Mmm.” She nodded, newly resolved to continue on. “You know how we’ve been entering Mementos through the station in Shibuya?”

“I do.”

“Well – and I guess we should have figured this out already, but it’s not like we had any reason to _check_ – but… every station connected to Shibuya station? You can enter Mementos from those points, as well. Since it’s all the same subway, I mean. W – we checked most of them. It’s probably all of them.” Futaba was practically vibrating in her excitement as she went on, and Makoto wasn’t sure where she was going.

“And… since getting hurt is less of a problem over there… and since you’re not in the best condition…” Futaba trailed off.

“ _Oh._ ” Makoto gasped, and realization dawned.

Futaba’s trembling had turned into full on bouncing on the balls of her heels, and when Makoto glanced over to Akira, he was still meeting her eyes in that loving, expectant stare.

“We can get back to work – ” She tried, before Akira corrected her as sternly as he could through the happiness glittering in his eyes.

“We can get you back on your feet. We can make sure you’re okay.” He leaned closer, enough to drag the backs of his fingers along her cheek. “That’s the most important thing right now. Everything else can wait.”

Holding his gaze, Makoto could see the words he chose to keep unspoken. Akira needed her back at his side.

And she wasn’t about to let him go back to leading everyone on his own.

~~~

The others had been waiting in the cafe by the time Makoto came down, clutching at Akira’s side. They wanted to see her off just as badly as they hoped to welcome her back when she was good and healed.

It made the walk to the station at least a little easier to know what would be waiting when she returned. But in the meantime, she was still hurting, and the short trip was still difficult. Her muscles locked up, she stumbled and tripped and had to argue every step of the way against Akira simply picking her up and _carrying_ her the rest of the way. She could walk. She needed help, but she could do that much.

And as she sat inside the Metaverse, collapsed heavily against the nearest pillar for the support, the thought of that scene in the cafe served to keep the tiniest of smiles on her face.

“ _Eugh._ ” She groaned, nauseous as the pale green sparks of a healing spell began to dance across her body, knitting broken skin, healing bruises and strengthening bones.

“Too much?” Akira worried, quickly kneeling at her side to cradle her chin between two fingers. The fabric of his gloves felt nice. She preferred the callouses.

“No, no it’s just… I always hate how this feels.” She tried, before Akira’s voice laced itself with even deeper concern.

“I can make the next one easier, Mako. It’s okay if you need to take this slowly.” And his voice dropped lower, smoothing and quieting in a way that twined itself with Makoto’s entire being. It sounded like his most comforting embrace, or his sweetest kiss, or even just the taste of the coffee he always found excuses to prepare especially for her. “Or we can try medicine instead, if you’d rather?”

“I’m fine. It’s fine, Aki.” Makoto tried for a laugh, but her injuries still hadn’t completely gone and she was falling deep into a coughing fit before she had any chance to stop it. “Promise.”

But Akira was sliding his hands forward as soon as she started, one resting gently at the halfway point of her thigh, and the other moving to rub soothing circles on her back as he whispered a parade of reassurances that he would be at her side the entire time. His eyes were wide and patient and so non-judgmental, so _understanding_ , that Makoto had to force herself to look away before that look swallowed her up completely.

And then the sound of footsteps echoed through the area.

“You’re _here!_ ” Said the intruder, sounding absolutely delighted with the knowledge. Makoto’s heart jumped against her chest as Akira’s grip on her leg tightened, just barely. “I was worried that I might miss you two.”

A look of dread, or maybe anger, or frustration, or any or all of those things all at once washed over Akira’s face, and the air tensed with him. It continued until the space between Akira and their unwanted visitor was so tight, so intense and visceral that Makoto could have sworn it might throw off sparks. It drew the two of them together just as easily as it pushed them apart. Just as easily as it sapped the warmth from everything in sight.

“How did you find us?” Akira asked. His voice was shaking.

“You don’t _really_ think I would go through the trouble of placing bait into your lap without keeping tabs, do you? I thought you knew me better than that, Akira.” The self-satisfaction practically oozed from their every word, and if Makoto wasn’t already on the brink of nausea thanks to the healing her body had just undergone, the sound of that voice would have taken her there easily.

She thought, for only a moment, that Akira might feel the same. But when he raised his head, she saw his true feelings as clearly as if the words _anger_ and _betrayal_ were written across the details. She caught of glimpse of that intense gold, shining so bright in his eyes that they nearly glowed in the dim light of Mementos. And when he stormed across the distance to throw a single punch square at Akechi’s jaw, when the resulting _crack_ filled the room just as loudly as the sound of a body collapsing underneath Akira’s fist, Makoto knew for sure that what he felt was something much, much worse than a little bout of nausea.

“I’m glad to see you finally found the strength for that.” Akechi faintly laughed, making no effort to rise from his place on the ruined tile floor. “Do you think we could talk? Have I at least earned that much?”

Makoto couldn’t make out Akira’s response, but he remained in place, towering over Akechi’s body. His shoulders relaxed; not enough to indicate he felt safe, but enough that she could at least guess at how he responded.

“Good. Good.” Akechi exhaled quietly in something that almost looked like relief. Like he had stared defeat in the face and resigned himself for what was to come. “…I killed them all, you know. Not your friends, I mean. My employers. My father.”

_His father was part of this?_

_…He killed his father?_

“It left me feeling emptier than I expected.”

“Did you really think it would change anything? Going further down that path?” Akira bit back, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“No, I suppose not.” A sentimental laugh echoed off the walls. “Being honest, I strongly considered picking up and leaving rather than coming here to… to finish this. But then, I always was awful at running away.”

“Was that all you wanted to tell me, then? That you’ve killed more people, and now you’re here to kill me?”

“…In a sense. Yes. Yes, it was. Though, I’ve already worked out most of my anger on my father. I don’t know that there’s anything left for you. But even if it brings me no satisfaction, I must continue. Because it’s what the warden of that… that _place_. That prison. It’s what he wants. And you know as well as I do that no matter how much I might want it, turning him down is not an option.” Akechi stayed silent for a long moment before continuing, breathing slowly in and even slower out. “…The only escape I have is death, Akira. Death, or seeing this through to the end.”

Akira grimaced. His back seemed to stiffen, and as he opened his mouth to respond, the air in the room tensed all over again. It was the same horrible sensation she felt in that room. Only this time, it practically burst forth, overflowing into every crack and crevice in sight.

For a moment, dread filled Makoto’s chest, and she looked to Akira for some sort of reaction, any sort of indication that he was in pain.

There was none.

_Breathe, Makoto…_

Instead, the source of the buzzing, crackling sensation filling every molecule in the air seemed to come from Akechi himself. It wasn’t until she truly looked that she understood why; Akechi had become cloaked in dark, dark blue flame as he continued lying on the floor, and slowly, he clawed his way back to his feet. Slowly, the flames that cloaked him like some never-ending awakening began to darken. Slowly, the flames took on the shade of complete and utter nothingness that Makoto had come to associate so closely with Shadows.

“I don’t have a choice. I’m sorry.” Akechi whispered, once his balance was regained. He drew his sword, and the blade shined with a pure blue light that reflected against every nearby surface. “I’m _sorry_.”

Akira stumbled back, taking his knife into a hand and reluctantly, more hesitant than she had ever seen him act in the Metaverse, raised his arms into a ready stance.

“In that case…” Akira said quietly, regret in his voice and tension seeping through his every action. He spun the blade in his hand once, twice. “I’m sorry, too.”

~~~

Makoto couldn’t look away from the sight before her. She knew that she should be helping, that she should be calling on her own Persona to mend the last of her injuries and rush to Akira’s side to make sure he stayed safe. Instead, she could only stare on, awestruck as the two of them traded blow after blow and pulled each other closer and closer to the brink of life.

Akira was struggling the longer it went on. And after just barely parrying a series of Akechi’s strikes, he was finally sent skidding backward. Their blades colliding sounded like some unholy shriek. Akechi lashed out again before Akira had even regained his footing, and even though Akira managed to raise his hand again to block in time, the force of the attack sent him tumbling away. A boot collided with his jaw, and he continued rolling into the distance.

When Akira finally managed to climb his way back to his feet, cuts and tears in his clothing leaking blood over every part of every limb, the two held their positions.

“ _Please._ Don’t draw this out.” Akechi nearly pleaded. The crackling grew stronger, and the flames grew larger. They seemed to suck the heat from the air.

It was the only warning he gave before striking again. He leapt at Akira, propelling himself through the air like a bird taking flight, and Akira struggled to meet him in time. He collapsed to his knees the instant the clang of metal rang through the air.

“ _Please._ ” Akechi tried again, and there was something in his eyes, something in his voice that sounded utterly desperate for understanding. “Please, Akira. _Please._ ”

_…I need to move. I need to get to my feet and help._

Akira just barely managed to block the next series of blows. Ring after ring after ring kept Makoto transfixed, horrified at the possibilities staring her in the eyes. Akechi bored down, pushing his sword with all his might against the hilt of Akira’s dagger and forcing him again to his knees.

“Akira!” He sobbed, allowing himself to be consumed further by that dark fire. “ _Stop fighting this!_ ”

Akira’s face flashed with something close to pity, and he seemed to gain enough strength to fight back. At least, enough to reach his mask with one hand, and Akechi made no effort to avoid the fire – real fire, Akira’s fire – that rained down on them both. Akira pulled at his mask again, and as they settled back at his sides, fire surrounded them once more.

And it hit Makoto all at once. The realization that Akechi hadn’t yet summoned his Persona. He had caused so much damage to Akira through his physical strength alone, and yet he was the one practically begging for it all to end. He didn’t want to finish Akira off.

That wasn’t why he was there.

The knowledge washed over Makoto like ice down her spine. Because she understood exactly what years of experience in the Metaverse looked like, and that wasn’t it.

She knew he was holding back. She knew, because Akira had worn that same expression of fear more times than she could count. Akira spoke in that same, desperate tone of voice whenever he felt too small and scared to pull himself away from his guilt. And worst of all, she knew that it was why Akira had refused to fight back.

But she didn’t want that. She wanted him to fight, to hit back, to do something, _anything_ to protect himself. _For her_. She needed him just as badly as he needed her and he wasn’t allowed to just let it all happen when she was right there with him. If only her limbs had listened, she thought, she might have found the strength to rise to her feet and try with everything in her to protect her Akira.

And still, even still, Akira was in pain. He was hurting and things would only get worse and worse if she stayed frozen on the ground.

Her fingers twitched, finally listening to her attempts to move.

Her hands rose slowly to her face.

_I need to help._

Akechi groaned, nearly a sob as more of his body was drenched in darkness. He dove forward, wild and unrestrained, and Akira just barely dodged his attempted attack. But Akechi whipped himself around, coiled to the ground, and shot forward. He aimed a lightning-quick jab with the handle of his sword toward Akira’s gut. The strike, again, sent Akira tumbling back until he was laying a safe distance away, surrounded by the aftermath of everything. Akechi fell to his knees only momentarily before sending another pulse of that eerie black flame through his body. The resulting scream was agonizing, but he recovered, gasping for air, and launched himself back toward Akira.

 _I need to help_.

Akechi was breathing hard, suddenly swiping too slowly and erratically to hit his target as he reached Akira’s side. Akechi struck once, a miss, and his blade tore clean through the wall. He tried again, slashing once more at nothing but following the motion with a rigid twist to meet Akira’s gaze. In the next instant, without removing his mask, the space pulsed again with pitch black fire. A Persona appeared behind him, tall and lanky and as chilling as Akechi himself. A single bolt of black cleared the distance between the two, and Akira was crushed into the wall at his back.

Akira choked with the impact, and as he slid limp and boneless to the ground, Makoto saw him coughing up blood.

_I need to help. Why can’t I move? Why can’t I help? Why?_

He wasn’t moving. Akechi stumbled closer. The air chilled, and the darkness surrounding him took on the form of something more solid; a familiar pitch-black sludge, dancing through the air and bubbling up in much the same way as the fire it had replaced. A choked, stuttering scream of agony ripped its way from Akechi’s throat with the change, and he stopped momentarily to recover as his Persona faded as quickly as it came.

_Akira…_

Akechi fell to his knees in front of Akira’s unmoving body. He choked and sputtered and hacked with every breath he took. He tossed his sword to the side.

_Aki, please…_

Makoto’s fingers finally found the edges of her mask.

Akechi placed one palm directly on Akira’s forehead, pinning him to the wall.

He raised his other to the space directly below, but then Akira’s hand was at his wrist, trapping it in place. The two stared each other down in the relative silence of their strained breathing.

Her fingers tightened.

“Off.” Akechi hacked out, the same darkness that enveloped him spilling from his lips with every new breath. “For me. _Please_. Before I – before…”

“I can’t stop this, anymore…” He tried again.

And something in his voice, something in his eyes, _something_ that Makoto couldn’t see must have affected Akira. Because he loosened his grip on Akechi’s wrist and weaved it under that same arm to cradle his face. Tears were falling from his eyes.

“…It’s not fair of you to put this on me, Goro.” He commented, no doubt trying to sound stern even as his feelings betrayed him. “You didn’t need to do this to yourself.”

“I did. I’m sorry…” Akechi utterly melted against the touch, and he pressed their foreheads together.

“You really are the worst, you know that? After blaming me for everything?”

“I’m _sorry._ ”

“And hurting people I care about?”

“I can’t. I – _can’t_ … not ‘nymore… ’m done…” Akechi was shaking, choking up more and more with every word.

Another pulse, and Akechi was doubling over, groaning and vomiting black liquid. His Persona flashed into view momentarily before flickering back to nothing “Done. I’m done. I _can’t_.”

Akira closed his eyes. He pulled his mask away with a sigh and let his head settle against the wall. He was staring up at the ceiling, blinking away tears when his Persona appeared in a gust of wind and light.

“Thank…” Akechi hiccupped, leaning back to take in the sight of the thing Akira unleashed. “…Thank you.”

Another pulse. Makoto’s blood felt frozen in her veins. That black nothingness was consuming even her ability to see.

Her mask tore loose.

Another pulse. Makoto’s vision suddenly flashed white. Everything rumbled and shook until the force of that white was all that remained.

~~~

Akira carried Makoto out of the Metaverse in a daze.

The feeling of her hair tucked into the crook of his neck and tickling at his skin with every step he took was the only thing keeping him grounded as he shuffled – too slow – through the streets.

His phone had been hit with a barrage of texts shortly after escaping, but he couldn’t bear to let Makoto go long enough to read, so he continued his walk to Leblanc, promising to check as soon as he was able.

It wasn’t until after he entered the cafe and somehow explained to his friends what happened over the past minutes – _Had it really only been minutes?_ – of his life, that he checked. He sat through their reactions. He dimly made out shock, anger, worry, but he wasn’t listening, not really. When he was finally tucked into bed, wrapped tight around Makoto with the covers wrapped even tighter around them both, he looked.

_UNKNOWN: “I’m sorry.”_

_UNKNOWN: “There is nothing I can say to make up for my sins in either of these lives.”_

_UNKNOWN: “Throwing the love you showed me back in your face made me feel absolutely vile. Even if I truly believed it might offer you a chance at peace, that does not excuse a thing.”_

_UNKNOWN: “You must hate me. I don’t expect, or even deserve forgiveness. I only hope your hatred makes what I forced on you somewhat easier.”_

Akira pulled himself closer. He looked out at the others, tucked away under makeshift bedding across the couch and the floor, and he buried his nose into Makoto’s hair to hide his shaking.

_UNKNOWN: “I know you will find a way to stop that creature.”_

_UNKNOWN: “Please live a good life, Akira Kurusu.”_

_UNKNOWN: “I’m sorry.”_

A number of responses drifted through his mind – _Asshole. You’re a fucking asshole_ firmly at the front of the line – even though he knew they would do no good.

Akira pulled away long enough to place his phone on the windowsill, and in those few seconds of distance, Makoto nuzzled closer. She rolled over and on top of Akira, until she was using his entire body as a pillow.

He wrapped his arms tight around her, and he sighed.

It was all he could manage, anymore.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I super super super did not mean for this chapter to take a month to get uploaded, whoops!
> 
> After the last update, I got distracted playing some games I never had the chance to touch when they were new, and then reading a whole bunch of fics about those games when I was done. This story's still going though! I can't guarantee updates will be back to the sometimes-weekly-sometimes-biweekly schedule I was running with before, but I'm definitely still aiming to finish it. We're in the final stretch!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!

“Hey, hey Akira!”

Akira glanced away from his work. He still hadn’t finished enough lockpicks to feel good about taking a break.

_Still… no harm in talking while I work, right?_

He looked to his friend, curled up in the corner of the desk, flicking his tail back and forth, and watching every move Akira made with intense, curious eyes.

_…Right._

“What’s up, Morgana?” He asked with an easy grin.

It was only the two of them, that night.

He wanted – _needed_ , probably, if he were to give himself enough time alone to admit it – to stay with Makoto for just one more day. Just one more night to know that they were still alive. That he could reach out and hold her and know that it was real. Because after he almost lost her again? After he almost allowed himself to be lost to her? Again? Akira only wanted to feel the warmth of her presence and shut out the rest of the world. To wrap himself around every bit of her that he could and know that she was there, _alive_ , and that whatever hell they had walked through was finally behind them.

If the hug she left him with, full to the brim with too much strength and too many tears and too-rough presses of lips along his neck, and his jaw, and his cheeks, and his nose, were any indication, she felt the same.

_“I worry about you, you know.”_

_A small grin tugged at Akira’s lips. Of course he knew_

_“I’ll be fine, Mako.” He promised. “If things get really bad, Morgana can always yell and shout until I let you know.”_

_He hoped he could commit her disbelieving smirk to memory. Dealing with the…_ thing _… in Mementos, the thing that they barely walked away from, would definitely be easier with her around to help. But she needed to spend time with her sister. He was hardly the only one who almost lost her. Akira could deal with time alone. He could use the time to work. To think. To enjoy Morgana’s company._

_Morgana, the first of countless unintended victims of his single-minded rush to save everything he lost._

_Makoto’s fingers brushed softly through his bangs, and she kissed him with all the love and affection she wouldn’t be able to share that night. Morgana’s exaggerated groans of disgust only seemed to spur her on. “Okay. Fine. I believe you.”_

_Her lips touched the tip of his nose._

_“I love you, okay?” She offered, stretching and standing up on her toes to kiss him again, on the very center of his brow._

_Akira nodded, and the sensation of Makoto’s lips cracking into yet another smile filled him with a matching feeling of joy. “I love you too, Mako.”_

_“Good.” She whispered, and she kissed him again, turning Akira’s smile into a soft, throaty chuckle. “You better. Take care of yourself tonight.”_

_“Go, Sae’s probably getting antsy by now.”_

_Makoto pulled away for only a moment, just long enough to cradle Akira’s face between both of her hands and let him watch as she fell deep, deep into his eyes._

_And she kissed him again._

Despite everything, they made it through. One more choice in the mountain of decisions foisted onto his shoulders, but they made it through.

And they could spend one night apart, no matter how badly they both wanted to bury themselves under the sheets together and hide away until the only thing that existed to either of their senses were the familiar scents and sounds and sensations of each other.

They could spend one night apart, and Akira could do some catching up of his own. His near obsession with fixing the mistakes of his past hadn’t felt wrong at the time, but looking at the person – because Morgana _was_ a person, even if he was _also_ a cat – in front of him, staring all of that lost time straight in the eyes, Akira couldn’t help the slowly rising guilt.

So Akira promised Morgana a night of catching up, of no interruptions, and he even added the fattiest, priciest tuna he could get his hands on in such short notice. Morgana offered no arguments whatsoever, and the two of them bounced between comfortable silence and long overdue conversations for most of the night.

One more decision. One more problem to fix.

At least the end was in sight.

Even if he didn’t have the slightest idea what that end might look like.

“So like, now that you’re finally done with all o’ that? What now?” Morgana rolled onto his back as he asked, threading one loud groan through each of his words. “Not that it’s, like, you’re not exactly _stuck_ here or anything. But, you know? Your whole reason for being here is, just, _poof_.”

Akira couldn’t quite help the grin tugging at his lips. He reached over and scratched at the space under Morgana’s jaw. “I don’t know. We still need to help you find out what’s at the bottom of Mementos, don’t think I’ve forgotten about that already.”

“O – of course not!” Morgana made what must have been the feline equivalent of a blush, and batted his paws playfully at Akira’s fingers. The lockpicks would definitely stay forgotten. “I just mean… That was kinda two years of your life coming to an end! Right? And now there’s sorta nothing else. Just my thing, now. And… and trying to become a human doesn’t really measure up to… _that._ ”

“Well, why doesn’t it? Why can’t that be enough?” Akira replied, bouncing his fingers off Morgana’s paws every time he deigned to loosen his grip and return to swatting and pawing.

“Hrmmm. Guess so.” Morgana stopped, and seemed to melt into the work bench until Akira returned to work.

“…Hey Akira?” Morgana whirled back to his feet after a time.

The lockpick in progress returned gently to the desk. “Yeah. Morgana.”

“I _really_ don’t like how late Futaba stays up…” He mumbled, as if suddenly realizing that he might have opened just a little too strong. “It’s too late for a good night’s sleep… _Way_ too late…”

And Akira laughed.

“I’ll be sure to tell her you need your beauty rest the next time you spend the night, how does that sound?” He teased.

“…Thank you.”

Neither had much to say after that. Akira returned – for real this time – to his lockpicks, meticulously working his way through every little detail to make sure everything was absolutely perfect. He didn’t bring up the pictures Sojiro had made a point to send his way; the pictures of Morgana fast asleep, cuddled close into Futaba’s arms like it was the only thing either of them needed.

Like it _was_ , in fact, a good night’s sleep.

Morgana returned to his napping then, satisfied and sleepy. He didn’t ask whether there were any pictures.

Only, before long he was awake once again. “…Hey Akira?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think we’ll find anything good down there? In Mementos?” Worry faintly tinged Morgana’s question. More than enough for Akira’s heart to drop out of concern for his friend.

“Of course we will. For sure, Morgana.” He promised. “…I know we will.”

Morgana didn’t answer at first, he only stared up at Akira, eyes wide and almost disbelieving before resolve washed over him. “…Yeah. Yeah! You beat a time travelling monster man who wanted to kill you after all, driving through a subway should be no problem at all!”

Akira’s hands tensed at the word ‘monster’, and the lockpick he was working on snapped into pieces between his fingers. At least he could say the feeling hadn’t made it to his face.

“…Oh, sorry… I didn’t mean to yell.” Morgana, somehow, managed to blush through his fur all over again.

_A cough echoed off every wall in sight._

_“…The only escape I have is death, Akira.” His eyes were practically pleading. Begging. He had to know it wasn’t right to ask after everything else. As if it would magically fix every one of their problems. As if it would be a magical apology, enough to make up for every single thing Akira had pushed himself through. He had to know._

_Asking for death didn’t make any of it okay._

_…He_ had _to know._

“Yeah…” Akira whispered, hoping Morgana didn’t pick up on his hesitation. They could have that talk some other day. Morgana was still, as far as Akira could tell, a child. And trying to explain the absolute train wreck of a _something_ that existed between him and Goro – between him and _Akechi_ – was not a road he was prepared to start down just yet. All he wanted anymore was to rest. “Yeah, we’ll solve this mystery for you. No question.”

“I can’t _wait_ to be human again! No more getting treated like a cat!”

“Me either, Morgana. I can’t wait.” Akira nodded. His voice felt smaller than ever.

Mementos might be a mystery, but Akira was absolutely sure about one detail in particular. There would be more decisions waiting for him down there, in its depths.

He wanted so badly to rest.

~~~

Everything was dark.

More importantly, everything _hurt_.

Dying wasn’t supposed to hurt. Dying wasn’t supposed to feel like the air had been burned straight from the pit of your lungs as thoroughly as the bones had been crushed to dust inside of your body. Dying was supposed to be relief from the pain, it was supposed to be solace from the pressure. From the worries and the stress and the never-ending expectations of the living.

At least, it had been last time.

Akira figured dying once was enough to understand pain wasn’t meant to follow you across that border.

He didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want to see what was waiting for him; if _anything_ was waiting for him. He wanted to stay where he was, laying on his back and surrounded in the constant ache pulsing through his every vein.

A voice called out to him before he could decide one way or the other.

“Trickster.”

For a short moment, Akira thought he understood who was calling him. Why they were calling him. Where he was. But they spoke again, and he recognized something soft in their voice. Something familiar, and something that had been nagging at him for the past two years.

“Trickster, please wake up.”

~~~

Makoto sat, unmoving in her cell. Her eyes stared unseeing past the bars of the door. She didn’t feel the wall of blue velvet at her back. She didn’t see the brick walls at her side. She didn’t see anything at all except the space just beyond the bars.

She was okay with that.

Something – and she knew she lacked the energy to define it further than that, just a vague _something_ – happened in the distance, further inside the prison. There were sounds of a fight. She wasn’t alone.

She found it hard to care.

After all that work, after fighting for so long, after fighting so hard, she disappeared. Every single one of them disappeared. And Akira, in some unspeakably cruel twist of fate, was forced to watch as that monster in the depths of Mementos ejected them back to the real world. He was forced to watch as each and every member of the family he had worked himself to death in order to save slipped between his fingers. Slowly. Painfully. She would have cried at the memory if her body had any tears left to shed.

But there was nothing left, every bit of emotion dried up when her body slowly, painfully, burned and crumbled to dust.

She recognized that she should have been worried – their enemy claimed to be a _god_ – but there was absolutely nothing left.

Only an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion remained. Only resignation stood firm in its place.

_If this is how things were meant to end, then so be it. I give up. I’m sorry, Akira._

She shivered.

_I guess we had a good run…_

Her knees drew themselves up to tuck beneath her chin, and she held herself tight.

_…I just wish I had the chance to say goodbye._

~~~

She had his eyes.

Or, Akira supposed, he had hers. _Lavenza_ , she called herself.

It made sense, in a cruel sort of way. Her final gift before the impostor – that evil god masquerading as her master – split her in two and sealed Igor away was to grant Akira the power to see everything with crystal clarity. To solve the mysteries along his path to redemption. And yet he could never solve the one mystery that might have finally freed him from his struggle. He hadn’t even realized it might need solving. Hadn’t ever considered that Igor might be a fake, or that his twin attendants might be two halves of the same person.

He hadn’t ever considered that the reason they seemed so familiar was because he held a piece of them inside his own heart.

Maybe he would have realized sooner if he stepped away from his goals, even just once. Maybe, if he saw the glimpses of relaxation his friends gave to him so, _so_ often as anything other than another step toward the end, he might have been able to save them all from being crushed under the weight of his failures.

His constant, constant failures.

Two years of promising to do better, of assuring everyone that he was the right person to be making those decisions, that he could help them all. Two years of failing on every front. Not one thing turned out right. Makoto was gone. Again. And this time, as if to add insult to the injury of that loss; the rest of his family was gone, too. As if the god they found, buried and waiting in the depths of the labyrinth of consciousness was taunting him for ever daring to hope for freedom. All that deciding and choosing and pushing blindly forward as he offered promises that _this time_ it would be different; _this time_ he could help, and in the end all it got him was nothing at all.

So much fighting to make everything better, and in the end, Akira couldn’t even do that.

He couldn’t even manage to bring in results just a few steps behind the truth, couldn’t even manage to stop ruining everything just long enough to admit to himself “I need a break. I need a chance to breathe.”

Instead, he forced himself to keep deciding. To keep giving orders that only made everything worse and worse and worse until he was left with nothing. Just him and the walls of his cell and enough failure to fill two entire lifetimes.

Maybe if he was better. Maybe if he was stronger.

But he wasn’t. And no one ever saw his fatigue for what it was. No one ever saw that he was practically dead on his feet, barely surviving on momentary bursts of adrenaline and the ghosts of happiness to see him through just one more step.

No one ever saw him. Because he never let them.

And, maybe it was for that reason that he never saw the expressions they wore, those twin attendants of his. He never saw how they longed for some sort of recognition in the depths of their very beings, even as they scolded and soothed him through every twist and turn and every development as if they knew as little about the details as him.

Even as he allowed himself to grow distant and refuse to return, they stayed silent. Even as he pulled them all further down, down to another catastrophic failure, they didn’t say a word.

Some Trickster – some _hero_ he was.

But he knew now, at least. And with that knowledge, Lavenza needed him to make one final decision.

He couldn’t see the consequences. He didn’t know if he would only be making everything worse, if it would be the choice that finally shattered him beyond fixing, but she asked him. And all Akira knew how to do anymore was follow orders. To answer questions. To make decisions.

He could do that much.

After all, it wasn’t her fault that things turned out as they did. It wasn’t her fault that her master – her _real_ master – was trapped and forced to watch on in silence as an impostor tortured countless innocents with every passing day. That the impostor rigged events so steeply against Igor’s chosen hero that the only possible outcome was Akira’s death. That her master foresaw that outcome and used the last of his power to arrange for his rebirth. That he was forced to see himself through twin lifetimes of crushing, endless pain entirely for the sake of some petty wager made by gods.

It wasn’t her fault.

They were both just clueless pawns in a game between beings too powerful for comprehension.

And Akira was so, so, _so_ tired.

So if she wanted him to erase the impostor, to face whatever god was behind those years of suffering and punch it straight in the jaw, he could do that much.

That decision was easy enough.

It was an awful request. Following through was an awful decision. But Akira was in pain. His head hurt. And all he knew how to do anymore was decide.

And after that one, last choice, maybe they would finally let him sleep.

He spun on his heels halfway through whatever explanation was being given and stalked into the depths of the prison. His family was somewhere close, and there was only so much more he could take.

“Trickster.” Lavenza said, her voice calm and steady. Akira didn’t look back. “I promise that you will find your rest soon.”

The remark sitting on the edge of Akira’s tongue, the _Just let me fucking die. Let me have that much. At least let me do this in peace_ he wanted so badly to spit in response, to fill with venom and acid and launch her way, died the moment he turned to meet her eyes.

Guilt filled her eyes like silver storm clouds full to bursting with little flashes of gold. She felt guilty over the way things had gone.

Akira knew she was guilty, because he recognized those eyes.

She was guilty, even as she smiled a little half-grin, trying to send him off with something closer to the confidence of a hero.

But Akira wasn’t a hero.

He was just, so, tired.

~~~

Makoto wasn’t sure when she finally looked up to meet Akira’s eyes.

Maybe it was when he first arrived outside of her cell and collapsed against the bars, his hands gripping tight as his forehead sank against the thin metal barrier.

Maybe it was when she noticed the pain in his voice, the wavering and the trembling as he promised her everything was okay.

Maybe it was something like that. She didn’t know. What Makoto _did_ know was that she was looking now.

He finally got through to her, and convinced her that she still held the ability to free herself and fight at his side.

“Good…” He whispered, as the barrier disappeared.

“Good.” He whispered, with a smile so fragile it looked like it might break against the brush of even the lightest breeze.

And then he fell forward, completely limp.

And his outfit, his mask, and every bit of evidence that he still carried some trace of that strength within himself disappeared in a whirl of blue flame, leaving only a shattered, broken thing.

She barely caught him in time.

“Hey.” Makoto pleaded so faintly she wondered if Akira even heard. She slowly lowered him them both to the ground. “Don’t do this to me now, Aki. That’s not fair, I need you.”

She hoped her voice sounded soft enough to soothe. Despite the selfish things she was saying.

He didn’t seem to hear, at first. When they both settled to their knees, and Akira finally pulled himself away, he took in their surroundings through slow glances and empty eyes. His hands stayed limp at his sides. Watching him like that, she couldn’t help but wish that they had met under different circumstances. Maybe if they had found each other during simpler times, as normal students in a normal school leading perfectly normal lives, he wouldn’t have had to carry so much. Maybe if death, and magic, and monsters, and gods weren’t the foundation of their world, he wouldn’t have worked himself to such a point.

“…‘m sorry…” He half asked for permission, eyes swirling undecided between grey and something that looked almost beige. Not even close the familiar golds and silvers that made her breath hitch and her confidence soar. The lights behind his eyes dimmed somewhere along the way.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Aki. Nothing wrong at all.” Makoto looped her arms around his shoulders and twirled a strand of hair between her fingers, then. Akira’s eyes drifted closed. His face pressed to the side of her neck.

Not quite an agreement, but good enough.

“We can stay here as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere.” She reassured.

Akira nodded. Slow and hesitant, but he nodded.

“I’m right here. Always.” Makoto whispered again, as she let the both of them fall back against the wall.

She felt his lips move. Little indecisive brushes back and forth as his mouth struggled to form the words. “I… You died. _Again._ Because of me…”

“But I’m here now? Aren’t I?”

“I…” His hands twitched, and his arms lifted slowly to grip at Makoto’s shoulders. “I can’t do this anymore, Makoto.”

A sob shook his entire body, and he pushed – still, despite everything, as gently as he could – away to meet her eyes. Tears tracked down his face, he was trembling, and his eyes still looked so, so dull. But he was finally looking at her. Makoto was happy enough with that minor victory.

And then he lifted her mask away. He clenched shut his eyes as another sob wracked his body, and brought their foreheads together in a short, trembling movement. “Sometimes…” Akira started. Makoto could feel something tugging at the back of her mind as he did, and it felt nearly identical to the glimpses of the past that had haunted her so often during the start of the year. She didn’t fight it. “Sometimes I wonder if we would have met. Without any of this keeping us together.”

That pull grew stronger. Its touch felt like sunsets and warmth. Like Akira.

“Maybe…” He began again. “You could have lived a happier life without – ”

The moment she allowed that feeling in, the moment she welcomed it to each and every corner of her mind, Akira stopped in his tracks.

And she felt everything.

Every concern he carried in silence, every fear, the weight of every choice and every meeting and every consequence of every action that he kept to himself came rushing out in waves and crashed against the walls of her awareness.

_“You would have been so happy without me.”_

_“You could have lived a normal life.”_

_“You never would have died. I never would have killed you.”_

And she knew, she just _knew_ , that he could feel it, too. She could feel him accepting each and every one of her thoughts, somehow unchained and flowing freely between them. She could feel it all.

_“You’re the reason I can be happy.”_

_“I was never satisfied with the life I had. You helped me see that. You helped me with so much. You still do.”_

_“I never would have fallen in love with you.”_

His hopes for a future, something he never felt comfortable bringing up out of worry that they would never make it that far, were so similar to her own. She felt him try to apologize.

He was scared. Every time he was forced to make a choice, he was scared. And that fear had buried him long, long ago. She wouldn’t let him apologize.

He was tired. And she understood perfectly, because she felt the same.

Akira was sobbing, clutching at her arms, when Makoto came back to herself.

“It’s okay.” She murmured, pulling him closer.

Akira shook his head, and she felt the tears against the skin of her neck. “‘s not. I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Okay…” She tried again, burying a hand under his blazer and tangling her other into his hair. Akira shifted, just slightly, to make it easier for her. A small gesture of acceptance, even if she knew he would still try to disagree. “Okay. No more, Aki. You don’t have to.”

Again, he shook his head. “We still have t’ finish this. But… they’ll just keep asking… For more ‘n more. I can’t do that. This. ‘m done. Just… done.”

“I know.” Makoto nestled her nose into his curls, hoping it might help even a little. “I know they will. But you won’t have to listen. We… the rest of our family – Futaba and Yusuke and Haru, and definitely, especially Ryuji and Ann – we’ll be there with you until the end. And when it’s done, if anyone ever tries to put you through something like this again, they’ll have to go through us, first.”

A small nod was his only response, and Makoto accepted that she wouldn’t see anything more for the moment.

“I’m right here.” She whispered, feeling his body completely give up in her arms. It wasn’t the same as feeling him fall slowly, comfortably, to sleep. He hit his limit, and his body would take whatever flashes of rest it could manage whether he wanted it or not.

Makoto kissed him again, gentle and easy and relaxed, until eventually she was simply holding the pose. Until she sat with her cheek resting against the side of his forehead and her lips pressed to his temple.  “I’m right here for you.”

A long silence passed through the cell after that, interrupted only occasionally by the faint noises of Akira breathing. When he finally woke, the light was still missing from his eyes, but he seemed more relaxed. And Makoto was ready for that outcome. Simply being near him might have been enough in the past, and maybe on some level it still was, but they had one more hurdle to cross before real, permanent healing could begin. She would get him there. She would help Akira no matter what. They all would. Even if their love wasn’t enough, they would help him through it all.

Akira stumbled to his feet, and he offered Makoto an outstretched hand. When she was standing in front of him, he pulled her close and held her tight.

“Thank you.” He whispered into the crook of her neck, drawing her impossibly closer with every new breath. “I’m just… I’m so tired, Mako.”

Her fingers began threading into Akira’s hair before she could stop them. “I know.”

Another sniffle, another shudder, swept over Akira, and Makoto worried faintly that he might be ready to collapse once again, but the storm within him died as soon as it came. Sudden and harsh, one moment he was clutching on like nothing else mattered, and the next he was sighing a too-hot breath into her shoulder and pulling away.

He didn’t meet her eyes.

“We… should go.” He said, nodding to himself and breathing deep, letting his head fall back as a familiar blue flame danced across his body, covering him from head to toe. Even in the familiar blacks and reds, the leather and the tailcoat; even dressed in what should have been a source of endless confidence for Akira, he looked like a shell of his former self.

His voice was hard and he seemed to struggle to form words. Uncertainty pulled at every syllable. But he moved forward. One foot in front of the other. “We should go.”

He didn’t look back.

~~~

A small girl was waiting for them all, in the… lobby, Makoto supposed, of the prison. She stood in the very center of the room, positioned almost perfectly next to a dark wooden desk seating a man that appeared to be more Shadow than human. He was balding, and his limbs were too thin, and his smile was too big, and his suit was too perfectly tailored, and his nose was too long, and his eyes were too wide, too focused, too knowing.

He introduced himself as Igor.

He introduced the girl at his side, the one draped in a dress the same shade of blue as the velvet scattered all over the prison, as Lavenza. She looked almost like a doll, with her porcelain skin and pristine hair and the outfit that seemed as if it was made specifically for her; designed solely for the way that she was, the way that she acted and spoke and presented herself to them all.

Makoto wondered for a moment if _she_ was something other than human, as well.

And then she welcomed them all, and the calming, soothing timbre of her voice held back the rest of Makoto’s thoughts both forcefully and gently all at once. Before moving any further, Lavenza offered each of them, save for Akira and Makoto, a gift. A gift that she promised they were free to turn down.

She offered the return of their memories. The knowledge of the past that each of them lost. It would not be a happy gift, she explained. Those forgotten days were full of countless fears, of pain, and struggle. But the warning hadn’t deterred a single one of them, and with a beaming smile and a flick of her wrist, she allowed them to remember.

Lavenza waited patiently at Igor’s side as tears broke free and Akira and Makoto became buried under a pile of hugs. And when they were recovered, she continued.

Igor was the master of the prison; the Velvet Room. Akira was their chosen hero.

The one who sealed Igor away, who split Lavenza into two – the impostor – had offered them a wager. One they had no chance to refuse. Goro Akechi was to be his opponent.

The impostor did not play fair. Not for one second. It conspired and schemed and altered events behind the scenes to lead Akira to his death, and the two residents of the Velvet Room to their demise. But Igor had the foresight to expect as much, and with the last remnants of his power, the last shreds of resistance allowing him to watch over Akira, he returned everything to zero. He gave Akira a new chance. It didn’t go entirely as expected, which in itself turned out to have been expected. The true goal was to allow each and every person whose heart that Akira touched to retain their memories. To give them an edge.

Operating on scraps of power made that outcome impossible.

The results were messy and incomplete, but they were results nonetheless. And it was still a second chance. Akira’s friends, his family and acquaintances and the ones who each held a piece of his heart remembered only feelings. But to those he spent time with outside of the path he tried so desperately to retread, those feelings turned concrete. They turned into solid visions of the past. They turned into a chance for a fully returned memory.

The impostor continued to bend the rules to his whim. It returned the memories of its chosen the instant it realized what had happened. It forced Akira to the Velvet Room just often enough to make him suspicious, just often enough to force him away, in the hopes it would spell a new end.

But it didn’t work.

And the Phantom Thieves finally, truly learned what they were up against.

Lavenza assured Akira that his continued absence would never need an apology. She didn’t love him any less for falling into the impostor’s trick. After all, she was still there. Still with him, the entire time. Even as broken as she was. And his company, in that first lifetime, meant more than she could ever say.

He smiled a small, exhausted smile at her words.

And then, when Makoto was positive it was over, Morgana appeared from the cell at Lavenza’s back. And it wasn’t enough for him to simply be alive, to be back and standing in front of them all, he made the very same promise to Akira. The very same “You did nothing wrong. You did the best you could. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

Akira’s eyes closed, slowly. Makoto just barely made out the faint tremble of his lips.

And then they were gone. All of them. Through the door and off to face the end, one final time.

~~~

Makoto was sure that the rest of their evening would remain a blur in her mind for the rest of her life. A grotesque tower, skeletal and mechanical, organic and synthetic in its construction, pierced the sky.

It seemed to go on forever.

The impostor, the Holy Grail, the God of Control, whatever the right name was, was waiting for them at the top, surrounded by a sea of clouds painted with an eerie blend of yellows, and oranges, and reds. It was enormous. It was a strange, abstract looking thing, covered in chrome and sleek, sharp edges and harsh curves. Their surroundings reflected off every inch of its body, off every inch of its six massive arms.

And, eventually, it was over. And they were dying. Again. And she was losing Akira. Again.

Only, they weren’t. She wasn’t.

Each of them made it back to their feet, lifted by the cries and cheers of the voices throughout the city. The country. The voices of those who believed in the Phantom Thieves despite the completely disastrous way things had played out.

Akira seemed to summon every last scrap of power that he could from their support.

And he destroyed his Persona. He sent it up in flames.

Only, he hadn’t.

Something new, something massive, something with even more power than the God of Control took its place at Akira’s back.

It felt like Akira. It looked like Akira.

The skies darkened with its arrival.

And the god was defeated with a single bullet.

Akira looked unbelievably tired.

~~~

When all was said and done, Akira stood in the familiar streets of Shibuya, unmoving against the endless streams of people rushing to get to wherever they needed to go. The others left almost as soon as they arrived back in the real world. To celebrate their victory, to grieve for Morgana, to come to terms with what happened in their own ways. He let them go. Makoto, though, did not leave him. She wrapped herself around his arm.

He turned his head up, toward the empty night sky. He let the snow fall onto his face, his eyes held shut as the flakes melted and streaked across his skin. He let the smells and the sounds of Christmas Eve fill his senses. Waves of perfume and cologne, glimpses of coffee and sweets twined together with the sound of calm parents and laughing children, and of couples, enjoying the night without a care in the world.

One breath.

Two.

“I didn’t expect to find the world’s saviors alone on Christmas Eve.”

His eyes fluttered back open, still focused on the dark, unseeable sky. The neon lights lining his periphery drowned out everything from view other than the slowly falling snow.

“Oh! Sis! What brings you here?”

Of course that wasn’t the end. Of course they wouldn’t let him go.

Always, always, one more decision.


	19. Chapter 19

“Where are your friends?” Sae continued, smiling that odd motherly smile she’d taken to wearing around the two of them lately. “I thought for sure I’d find you all spending the night together.”

Small talk couldn’t possibly have been her only reason for hunting them down, Akira knew. But he wasn’t sure how to react. What if it was? What if it was just a friendly visit?

_No. No, we’re not… no._

“Sae.” He started, suddenly, eyes trained firmly on the ground. Makoto must have been talking, because she tensed and squeezed her fingers around his. “Can this wait until tomorrow? I uh…” Struggling to swallow down the lump in his throat, Akira tilted his head back to match her stare. “I’ll stick to our agreement. But… one more night. That’s all I want.”

And just like that, her expression turned serious. She moved to say something, no doubt to ask him, again, whether he _really_ understood what he was asking for, but Akira pressed on without giving her the chance.

“Just the rest of the night. And then I’ll be yours first thing tomorrow morning.” His eyes dropped to the ground. His head angled toward Makoto, but his eyes drifted far, far into the distance. He was too tense and scared to look at either of them.

Another squeeze of Makoto’s hand. Akira could feel her worry, her anxiety; he could feel something in Sae shift, too, and when he glanced back up – barely long enough to see – something like understanding flashed across her face. Her brows slowly rose and her lips parted and if Akira had looked for more than a split second, he might have called that expression _pity_.

“Okay.” The word was so small that it barely passed through the noise of the crowd. “ _One_ night… I’m sure you realize, though, that you can’t keep this a secret now. I know that was important to you.”

Akira wormed his hand free from Makoto’s, and let his fingers draw themselves to her waist, further and around until they settled on the small of her back.

“I know.” He said, turning to leave. “I know. I won’t.”

~~~

Makoto didn’t ask.

Partly to avoid making a scene in the middle of the street, and partly because she knew what both of them needed more than anything in that moment was peace and quiet. A night of drifting through bright city lights and wandering with absolutely no goal in mind. No obligations, no expectations, nothing but them. The last time they tried going out, tried spending time together without worrying about the future, or the past, or the whys or the hows, felt like so long ago. There had been so many distractions lately. So many reasons not to do anything other than spend time indoors as they worked and as they planned for the sake of their future. But if anything meant they deserved one night, just _one night_ out, Makoto figured defeating a god might be that.

Even… even if they lost Morgana to reach that end.

He would have wanted them to live normal lives. Be the best humans they could be to make up for all that time he would never have.

Akira seemed to agree. His smile was still small and still tired, but for once, it reached his eyes. They seemed to outshine the city lights.

“I meant it.” He whispered, as they both settled inside some beef bowl restaurant that Akira _insisted_ was worth it. She wasn’t sure it was, but it was a nice escape from the cold either way. “When I said thank you, earlier… god, that was still today, wasn’t it? But… thank you. Mako. For everything you do.”

 _Mako_.

That nickname was growing on him. The realization brought a light dusting of pink to Makoto’s cheeks, and she ducked her head, smiling both at Akira and at the thought that something so simple was all it took to make her embarrassed after… everything. After all of it. “You deserve the world, Aki.”

And she felt breathless, looking up at him and still practically buzzed on leftover adrenaline from their final hours in the Metaverse.

Akira met her eyes with a small, coy stare.

Makoto shuffled closer. She still didn’t ask.

By the time they paid and left, halfway through debating whether to keep wandering or to head back to Leblanc, they stumbled onto Ryuji, and Futaba, and Ann. And Makoto might’ve thought it was an odd group to see out together; or at all; especially on Christmas Eve, but the three of them fit together perfectly. They were a bubble of bright, bright hair and loud, loud voices. Futaba was practically stomping around between them both, swinging her arms far too wide with every new step, all clasped hands and pink cheeks as she teased Ryuji for losing so badly at the arcade. Ann looked like she wanted nothing else in the world but to watch them bicker. They looked like the sort of family that only they could make.

“No Haru?” Akira asked, leaning just a bit closer to Makoto’s side as they all found a quiet enough corner to chat. “Yusuke?”

“Nah, trust me, we _tried._ ” Ryuji said, eyes just a bit downcast and yet still nowhere near enough to wipe the grin off of his face once Futaba started giggling at the memory.

“W – we wanted to do a big thing with everyone!” She chimed in, without missing a beat. Makoto’s heart soared to hear the near complete absence of a tremor in her voice. What little was there even seemed to be the result of the cold, more than her nerves. “But… Yusuke is probably off making a million and a half paintings, and when we asked Haru, she just said she was too tired. I can’t really blame ‘em though… I’d understand wanting to be alone.”

Akira’s hand set down gently on top of Futaba’s head. “But not tonight?”

“Nope!” I’m full of energy right now, and – and these two – ” Futaba cut herself off to raise her hands straight into the air, still holding tight to one each of Ryuji and Ann’s “And these two are just, just great! Ryuji even let me beat him at the arcade to cheer me up!”

The silent look Ann shot Makoto’s way said everything she needed to know; even if Ryuji was satisfied to play along, there was no _letting_ anybody win, Futaba earned it, and Ryuji was just happy to see her smiling. Even if Futaba was too excited to see it.

Ann probably had her work cut out for her, herding the two of them around all night.

“Anyway,” Ryuji cut back in, just barely calmer than Futaba. “We’ll be sure to do somethin’ to make up for it soon though. Even if it’s just spendin’ time at Akira’s place, we gotta do _somethin’_. ’s the least they deserve.”

“It’s the least _everyone_ deserves, ‘yuji. Just a little thanks. A little company. Time to relax, you know?” Ann finally added, and Makoto’s lips quirked up almost imperceptibly at being proven right by the rough, sleepy satisfaction in her words. She was happy, but she needed a break.

“Yeah, _Yuji!_ ” Futaba cackled, in that way only she could. Crinkled eyes, teeth bared, and a string of soft little exhales as she butt her head against Ryuji’s arm.

He groaned and shrugged her away with just barely enough force to send Futaba tumbling back into Ann, who freed her hand from Futaba’s grip to ruffle her hair and let out a sweet, sleepy whisper. “You’re so good, Taba.”

Futaba laughed again, and reached for Ann’s hand when the head pats were finished.

If warmth spread through every inch of Makoto’s heart at the sight, she wasn’t about to admit it. Instead, she looked to Akira.

That faint echo of a smile was back on his lips.

There were still bags under his eyes, he still looked unsure, unsteady, but that smile was as real as any she had ever been lucky enough to see him wear.

They’d definitely need to make plans.

“Hey…” Makoto asked when they finally went their separate ways. She let her hand brush up against Akira’s temple, silently urging him to look. He was hesitant to turn, but when he did, when he finally looked back at her with those stunning, silver eyes, she stretched up to her toes and planted the tiniest of pecks on his lips. “Are you ready to explain what that thing with Sis was about, Aki?”

He blinked in surprise. And he leaned down. To return her kiss, Makoto expected at first, but at the last second, he seemed to change his mind. And his voice sent lightning along the shell of her ear. “Let’s get back home.”

~~~

Akira still hadn’t told her anything, Makoto realized. The thread was lost somewhere between the two of them calmly entering Leblanc and Akira stumbling back onto his elbows halfway up the stairs, laughing deep and genuine and happy, after she tried to urge him up without separating from their kiss.

She forgot to remind him.

Makoto pushed herself up, still allowing most of her weight to rest on Akira’s body. Her hand fell from his temple, still pulsing with his excitement even through their dying fits of laughter, until she was cupping his cheek.

Her thumb stroked at the soft skin there, and she tried again. “I should have realized something was wrong. What you were going through, earlier… I’m sorry.”

Akira let his eyes dropped closed, and he shook his head just faintly enough that Makoto’s hand stayed in place. “Hey, no, we’re not starting down that road again.” He said. “You’ve always been more than I deserve, Mako.”

“But…” She started, miserably, because that was absolutely not what she wanted to talk about. Because they had already gone over that very thing in the Velvet Room and she wasn’t prepared to dig up those feelings so soon after it all happened. Not when Akira was still keeping something from her. “It’s my job to make sure you’re okay.”

At that, Akira leaned forward, he gripped just faintly enough at the nape of her neck to send fire through her skin. Makoto leaned closer, and she didn’t stop until her eyes were shut and her lips were ghosting against his.

“That goes both ways.” He said, and she could feel his smile on hers. “We’re a team. We have to watch out for each other, and I’m telling you – again – that you’ve been absolutely incredible for me. It… how I was today; that would have happened months ago if I didn’t have you.”

And Makoto realized then, with a lighthearted scoff and a halfhearted attempt to hide the joy rushing through her, that she was getting sick of laying sprawled out on the stairs, arguing whether or not her love was enough.

So instead, she settled for rolling her eyes. She pushed herself back to her feet, leaving Akira several different kinds of uncomfortable on the ground behind her.

“Aki.” She called, mouth twisting up at the corners, teasing and amused and distinctly unworried about the question still dancing on the tip of her tongue. “Come here.”

She was halfway through placing her jacket on the edge of the couch when she felt Akira’s arms sliding over her hips from behind.

“What is it you need, your majesty?” His voice came out husky and low and so close to Makoto’s ear that she could feel the words brush against her. And just like that, her heart was pumping and her breath was shaky and it was all she could do to maintain an aura of calm. The instinct to cover his hands with her own, to roll her shoulders and fall more fully into his warmth was almost too much; too sudden and too violent to fight against.

Almost.

The urge to ask him was back, already, nearly as soon as it had gone.

 _I need you to explain that conversation with Sae,_ she thought.

“I need you to get into bed.” She said, not at all the words she was hoping for. Even the sense of control she had been grasping for with both hands was betrayed by the quiver in her voice and the realization that her fingers were already tangled with his, that her back was already pressed fully into his chest.

The hot puff of air against her shoulder let Makoto know that Akira could feel every bit of her struggle. Maybe that was why following him to the bed felt so easy.

Maybe that was his answer.

Maybe that was his explanation. Maybe he was leaving. Again.

If he was, Makoto understood. Because honestly, really, he was _always_ leaving. He was always leaving, and she was always left alone, saying goodbye and promising that she would be there when he returned and just once, just for _once_ , Makoto wanted to be close to Akira without _because he’ll be gone tomorrow_ becoming the tagline for their entire night.

She didn’t want him to go, but in the meantime, they could pretend everything was okay. They’d both gotten so good at pretending, after all.

They could pretend their hearts out for one last night together.

And as the backs of Akira’s legs bumped up against the mattress, as he fell down and took Makoto with him until they were both sprawled out together, that thought continued to bloom into something more. She thought, for a moment, that they could spend the night together, and everything would good. Everything would be fine. Akira would leave to take care of whatever important task needed taking care of, and then he would come back. And it would finally, finally be over.

For good.

For real, for once.

But the look in his eyes was different from their past goodbyes. There was a captivating need that she had never felt before. Akira’s eyes were darkening in ways she had never seen. And she didn’t need him to speak to understand what it meant. She didn’t need to hear a word to sense the fire in that stare. Not with that all-consuming desire to feel her as close as possible swirling through the air.

And suddenly, she realized that she wasn’t in the mood to hide away her own concern. Not if Akira was willing to be so open with his.

When she dropped a kiss on the corner of Akira’s mouth, nothing else mattered. It all felt like a dream, like it was the first time they had touched each other – really touched each other – all over again. As if the long, seemingly endless months they took to explore Mementos, the time they spent together after her memories returned, or even those early days when she had no idea who Akira was, were some sort of dream and she was still only half awake. As if she was barely conscious and just waking for the first time to experience something new and exciting and familiar and, _god_ , she knew she needed to stop thinking because her thoughts were barely making sense anymore and the way he was staring back at her was far too much.

For a moment, a very short moment, she succeeded. And then her mind drifted to the past regardless, because it was too hard not to think of their second first night together; how Akira had looked so happy, happier than she’d ever thought possible when he finally realized that she remembered him. Makoto wondered if the way she looked that night was anything like the Akira beneath her now, laying patiently on the bed and breathing deep and deliberate. She wondered if she looked like him, stretched out and ready, pupils blown so wide that she could almost reach out and touch the need in the space between them. She wondered if Akira felt as comfortable as her. If the way her breath caught that night – and she knew it had, because Akira always had that effect on her – made his heart seize up as much as hers, watching him deal with the exact same problem.

She kissed him again, and wondered briefly if she could make the future feel as safe for him as he’d done for her, before his tongue swiped at her lower lip and her brain finally, finally, god, _finally_ , came to a crashing halt. She pulled back, stripped off her shirt in one fluid motion, and Akira hauled her down for another kiss, hot and rough and making her arch so fully into him that the only thing she wanted anymore was for him to catch up and start getting rid of his own clothes.

She just barely started grinding her hips against him, fumbling with the zipper of his pants until he was chuckling into her lips and pulling both of her hands away so that he could take care of it for her.

“You too, Mako.” He said, pulling her back against him and rolling them both over so that he was towering over top of her. Everything but his eyes, that hungry look he wore, faded away for just the smallest of instants. It wasn’t loving and gentle like their early days together, it wasn’t anxious, like their stolen moments ‘lost’ together in the Metaverse, it was just, _him_. It was Akira, and it was a need so strong that his breath was trembling, dripping with it.

_That really is his answer, isn’t it? He’s really planning to leave._

Makoto opened her mouth to ask, only, her pants were gone.

“Wh – when did…?”

His only answer was to laugh, again, and Makoto realized that she didn’t care so much about the answer to her question anymore. It was okay, she thought. Everything was okay, at least for then, with Akira’s nails dragging slowly down her stomach. Maybe she shouldn’t have needed to give herself such reassurances. Not after so much time together had proven they would always find a way. She knew Akira would come back, she _did._ But she saw that look in his eyes. She still wanted that comfort. So she let herself think that everything was okay.

She let herself pretend that everything was normal.

The harsh sigh she let out, a reflexive response to Akira’s fingers dipping between her legs, might have embarrassed her otherwise. But everything was normal.

“You feel so good.” Akira whispered, pressing his weight against her and running his lips from the line of her jaw to the shape of her ear. Timing his words so that they synced up with the movements of his hand.

She threw her head back into the pillow, letting out some noise halfway to being a groan before it caught in her throat and turned to a shuddering, shaking gasp. Her hands shot to his back, to his shoulder blades, and she was clawing her way down and rolling her hips up and there was no room anymore for _maybe he’ll tell me_ or _maybe he is_ or even _maybe I can pretend everything is fine_ because her mind was full of the feeling of him and the magic tricks those fingers were making happen inside of her.

There was no room for it anymore because all that remained was that lopsided smirk hovering inches from her lips and the harsh kiss she finally won, letting him punctuate the soothing little nothings he whispered to her with another smug laugh. All that was left was the feeling of the hand in her hair, of her nails on his back, of three fingers inside of her, deliberate and rough and curling up just right, exactly how she needed to stop worrying about the why or the how of anything at all.

And then his thumb was joining in too, and thinking was just completely and totally beyond her for the moment.

Her mind focused in on the feeling like it was incapable of doing anything else. She lost herself trying to match the rhythm Akira set for her, and every time she inched closer it was as if every sensation she’d felt since falling into bed was magnified to the point of bursting. She concentrated on it, harder and harder until everything burst into white and she could barely tell apart the noises spilling from her lips.

All she knew was that at some point, she began repeating Akira’s name like a mantra. Like it was the only thing grounding her to earth.

Makoto could feel little trickles of blood following the path of her nails down Akira’s back as she returned to herself. It seemed to do nothing but spur him on. He moved harder and softer, faster and slower, and he followed her wherever she went as the empty shouts and the aftershocks and the need to grasp onto _something_ slowly died and her breath steadied.

But the feeling in the pit of her stomach, hot and sharp and still building despite itself, was far from finished. So Makoto pulled Akira to her lips and thrust her tongue into his mouth, lazy and wet and nowhere near finished with him.

She pulled away when she was satisfied Akira had lost enough of his breath. To kiss the edge of his lips. His cheek. His nose. and then she was pushing him off so that she could straddle his waist and trail kisses down his neck until she was settled, tucked away against his throat and suddenly intensely aware of every injury he had collected over the past year. They each felt rough against her skin.

And just like that, her mind was spinning back to life before she had any say in the matter. Not that her say would have mattered, but she would have appreciated being consulted on the matter.

Whether she wanted it or not, she had committed every blemish, every scar and bruise and bit of raised, white-pink skin to memory.

The bullet wounds on the edge of Akira’s shoulder were the first she ever touched with that purpose in mind. The tiny streaks were the result of his earlier, inexperienced days, when he encountered a Shadow that returned every bullet back to him with twice the force. They only grazed him, luckily, but the first time Makoto saw him shirtless – in a context other than the beach, the very public beach where she didn’t trust herself to look very closely at all because she was still _the new one_ , and Akira was the incredible, charismatic leader – she pressed feather light kisses to the spot. He shivered under her touch. She would never forget that moment. Even if he no longer carried those scars, she would never forget.

But there was always something new; something different; something to touch and to learn and remember. The tips of his fingers were scarred and burned to the point of being more blister, more scar tissue than skin. His hands had always been special to her.

They were how he connected to her, to everything.

And touch was important to him in so many ways. That rough, calloused skin proved to her that no matter how difficult things were, no matter what they lost or what he hid, he would never shy away from his desire to be close. He would fight with everything in him to make sure he never lost the privilege to touch, to hold, to be physical and intimate and share his emotions before they became entirely too much for one person to contain.

There were more, of course. Too many to name. Scars he had lost, scars he had gained, and even more that had been given to her. She valued each and every one. The burn along his hip, from a particularly nasty Shadow they encountered in Mementos. That one was new. It felt wonderful underneath her fingers.

The teeth marks – teeth marks! – that a shadow left covering the width of his thigh, and that no longer held a place on his body after their reunion. It disappeared, taking the many reminders of his interrogation with it. But none of them would ever lose their places in her memory.

She would never forget the day that ripped him away and sent them both violently tumbling back to the beginning.

Not least of all because Makoto carried those scars, now.

Skin broken by boots, by fists, by the metal cuffs on their wrists rubbing and scraping until there was nothing left but blood and hurt. She carried them all and more, but they still belonged to him. Every bit as much as he belonged to her, they belonged to –

Two fingers tapped at her forehead, before the rest of the hand followed its motion to cup her cheek. “Anyone in there?”

“ _Oh_.” Makoto breathed. She was doing it again.

“We don’t have to keep going, Mako.” Akira’s thumb rubbed back and forth. “If you’d rather just – ”

“No, no, I’m sorry, I was… Today went on forever… I think it’s finally starting to catch up with me. I don’t want to stop.”

He didn’t seem like he entirely believed her, so Makoto took advantage of the silence in her head to fall fully into the moment. She rocked her hips against Akira, gripping at his shoulders with a gentle touch and a much, much firmer press of her nails until she was leaning down, kissing away Akira’s groans and moans and gasps.

And her hands slid further, up and up until they tangled into his hair every bit as sloppy and rough as her lips on his.

Akira felt clueless beneath her, and eventually a string of giggles escaped him. “I guess I’m sorry for teasing, then. Can you _ever_ forgive me, your majesty?” He whispered, just the right side of playful, before Makoto caught his lip between her teeth.

“ _Shut up_.” Makoto grinned back, fire in her eyes as Akira kept laughing like nothing else in the world mattered.

And she moved down, pressed that feral smile into his throat until those laughs turned to gasps, to heavy breathing and stifled moans.

She pressed her mouth along each and every scar that she could. Soft, wet, even ticklish comforts. Each promising that no matter what he was hiding, no matter what pulled them apart, she would always find a way to bring him back.

Their hard-earned future would never be taken for granted again.

When Makoto ran her tongue along the scars on his chest, along that raised, puckered flesh just beneath his collarbone, on the side of his arms and the rise and fall of his ribs, she took comfort in the knowledge that his reactions meant he felt the same. She took comfort in the way he gasped like all of the air was gone from his lungs, the way he gripped just barely tighter at her hair, the way his palms, covered in endless little cuts and callouses, sent searing hot chills directly to the core of her body as they rubbed back and forth against her skin.

“ _Fuck,_ Mako.” He choked, as she ground down against him once, twice.

“Be patient, and then I’ll let you.”

She wrapped herself in the feeling of his reactions and traced the marks on his stomach. On his hips and his thighs, and even as she sank down, slowly, heavy on top of him and plucked out a tiny little chorus of _I love you, I love you so much Makoto_ with every passing second.

She loved him too, she thought in place of speaking, because her brain was _still_ working far too fast and refusing to stop for even just one second, and she didn’t trust herself to speak again without pouring out every last thought thrashing around restlessly inside of her. She loved him too, as those words left his tongue and cloaked her in warmth like little offerings for her pleasure; little promises to never stop caring for her with every single fiber of his entire being, even if it meant leaving to do so.

And then, mercifully, her thoughts were gracious enough to give her a break. Because she was moving, and he was moving too, and nothing else in the world mattered anymore except trying to press as much of herself against him as she could. Nothing remained but the blissful, white-hot current that pulsed through her every nerve and seeped into her veins to take the place of everything else. Every sight and every feeling and sound exchanged themselves with stars, with entire worlds and galaxies and universes of pleasure, because for then, for that moment, they were together. Tomorrow didn’t matter.

Her only thought, as she let it all surround her was how could she not? How could she ever not love him back?

She loved him too, she finally told him, she loved him too and she needed more, needed all of it, everything he could give so that she would know for sure that there was a light at the end of the darkness.

That his leaving came with the promise of a return.

She loved him too, as she lay limp and collapsed on top of his chest, enjoying the way they fit together.

That ache in the pit of her stomach still hadn’t gone, but it didn’t matter, because she was soaking up every detail to ensure the moment would never, ever be forgotten. She missed his warmth. Missed when they were able to be together in ways that weren’t some form of goodbye.

She knew she would miss it again soon.

Because Akira was tired. He was still so, so tired. Too tired for them to be spending a night like they were, but she wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. She was tired, too, and she needed to know, even if it was only during a fleeting moment of physical contact, that she could help. That she could make things easier.

“Hey.” She murmured. Waiting to see whether he would speak first.

“…Yeah?”

And something about his voice made the thoughts asking for permission to retake control disappear as if they had never existed at all. His voice was raspy and scratchy and Makoto couldn’t help but giggle at the sound. She tilted her head up, just slightly, to press her forehead against the side of his neck. Her hand fell splayed across his belly, tracing the shapes of his scars and working slow, soothing patterns into his skin. “You don’t… Aki, you don’t have to tell me anymore.”

“Hey.” He squeezed at Makoto’s shoulder, ran his fingers over the muscles of her arm. “No. Don’t… do that… I should’ve told you the day I decided.”

His voice was soft. Like it always was when he was trying to soothe and calm her past something. She could imagine looking up to see that little wry smile on his lips. “…I know you still deserve an explanation, but, I just need time. To sort out how to tell you. This one’s different.”

Makoto trailed her lips along his neck. She nipped at the skin there; grinned at the small, breathy moan it pulled loose. She could give him time. Because it was nice, being with him as they were. Pressed up into each other in an empty room where nothing existed but the sound, and the taste and the sight of them, totally alone together. She could enjoy that feeling, she could pretend that they weren’t in the middle of saying goodbye, of building toward something neither wanted to confront, until it was finally time to look reality in the eye and deal with the consequences.

Maybe all they earned for their hard work was a quiet night out together, but Makoto was willing to steal a few more hours for herself. The night didn’t need to be a confrontation. It could wait until tomorrow.

And as she climbed her way on top of Akira again, the deep, slowly darkening crimson of her eyes flashed back at her.

Hands spread out over his chest, a slow roll of her hips against his, and the softest gasp she could muster was all it took for that reflection to disappear, swallowed up by the emotion in his own.

~~~

_“There’s something else, something important, that I’d like to discuss with you before Makoto wakes up. It’s the main reason I’m here today, actually.”_

_Akira swallowed, unsteady as he continued brushing through Makoto’s bangs. He had some idea what she wanted to ask._

_“Makoto informed me that Goro Akechi’s final words to her included a mention of ‘separating’ from his employers… I don’t know – yet – who those employers are, but depending on how this plays out… I might need your assistance, when it’s all said and done._

_He nodded. His hand pulled away from Makoto, settling in his lap as it flexed open and closed._

_Sae pressed on, unaffected by his silence. “If there are no survivors, I see only one way you keep your friends safe. Your identities aren’t exactly hidden, and the public will want someone to answer for – ”_

_“I’ll do it.” Akira shut his eyes, tensing up in his seat. “You need me to take the fall for everything he did. I’ll do it.”_

_“You’ll… Akira, do you understand exactly what I’m asking? This isn’t something to decide lightly.”_

_“Trust me. I do. I can probably guess why he’d admit his plans, too.” He sighed, slow, and the tension left his body on that gust of air. “Look, me and him, that’s a whole conversation that I don’t want to have right now. Just… don’t tell any of the others until I’m already gone. Please.”_

~~~

Makoto woke to an empty bed. She wasn’t about to try pinning down the time, and rolling over to find her phone felt out of the question for at _least_ a few more minutes.

She pawed out for the other side of the bed, trying to check for some kind of clue. Akira wasn’t there, obviously, but the space was barely still warm, and for a moment she considered the possibility that he’d had simply gone downstairs for a drink. It was _almost_ enough to convince her back to sleep.

Only, there was no noise coming from the cafe.

After fumbling around long enough to throw on one of Akira’s hoodies – something big, oversized enough that the hem covered her knees – she worked her way down into the cafe. The bathroom was empty. So was the kitchen, the space behind the counter, and every single booth.

She finally spotted him outside, fully dressed for the weather and perched on the brick ledge of the garden just outside the door. Smoke curled and danced away from his fingers, and in the dark, the dull glow from the end of his cigarette cast an almost charming glow against his face. For a time, Makoto simply contented herself with watching through the window. Nothing in sight but the falling snow and one very mildly fidgeting Akira.

She never realized he smoked.

When she finally steeled herself for the conversation they had both – and it was important to her that she recognized her own role in putting it off – avoided for the entire night, she wasn’t entirely surprised to see that the doorbell hadn’t startled him. He probably knew she was watching, and that, at least, brought the tiniest of smirks to her lips.

He turned, cigarette still in hand, and tugged gently at the hem of her shirt. “I always love how you look in my clothes.”

His voice sounded, somehow, even smaller and more ragged than yesterday.

She didn’t ask about the smoking, or his little disappearing act, or even the question from last night that still had no answer, no matter how badly it all burned at the back of her mind. No matter how hard it fought to leap off the edge of her tongue. She only nudged him on the shoulder and scooted into his former seat.

“Swiped a pack from the place down the street.” Akira finally said, like he knew she was never going to ask. “Kinda… needed something to do with my hands while I try to…”

He gestured around to the alley, to the streets and the neighborhood and knowing him, the entire city beyond it all.

Makoto still didn’t ask. He was trying, and he would tell her. Her fingers scratched gently, restlessly at the small of his back.

“Haven’t really uh… not since I was back with my parents.” He mumbled before throwing the remains of his cigarette to the ground and crushing it beneath his shoe. “Should probably feel worse than I do about starting again.”

Despite herself, Makoto couldn’t quite help the momentary flash of pride at Akira refusing to call that place _home_.

“I, uh…” He tried. “…Sae wants me to turn myself in.”

Makoto didn’t answer.

“She said it’s the only way I have left to protect you all. After, Goro, after he – after… _damn it_.” His voice caught in his throat, and Makoto allowed herself to sag down against his side, holding her eyes firm against the snow dusted gravel in front of them as he started grabbing for his lighter with trembling, unsteady fingers. He stumbled around in silence, trying to calm himself down. Smoke practically forced itself out through his nostrils when he finally worked up the strength to try talking again. “After he _ruined_ everything. Killed anyone else who might have potentially, _maybe_ been able to take the blame and turned them all into victims. This is all I have left. Not good enough for me to get arrested for assault, now I get to go to prison for all of this shit, too. Leader of the Phantom Thieves. Mastermind behind the mental shutdown incidents. All because he doesn’t know how to apologize like a normal human being.”

Still, Makoto did not answer. The hand on his back sank lower, just above the waist of his jeans, and she worked her fingers beneath his shirt to scrape softly at his bare skin.

“Not that I’d have forgiven him… I wish I could bring myself to hate him. He _deserves_ it.” He said again, relaxing under Makoto’s touch; reaching for her free hand and twining their fingers even as his words became stiff and harsh. “Anyway, I… I think I agree with her. Someone needs to take the blame before things get out of control. Just. I’m…”

“You’re tired.” Makoto finally answered with a whisper. She turned, let her cheek brush against his arm and buried her nose in the shoulder of his coat. Her arms wrapped fully around his waist.

Akira nodded, stiff and slow.

Makoto plucked the cigarette from his lips, and she kissed him. He still, somehow, tasted more like coffee than smoke, and were it not for the situation they were in, she might have smiled at that. “I’ll be here when you come back.”

She ignored the pang of hurt that came with saying those words again. _Again._

“I don’t, uh… I don’t think I am. Coming back. This time.” He choked against her lips. “Sae should be here soon. You should head back up.”

She could feel the words he left unspoken. The _I came out here alone for a reason_ , and the _please go back to sleep, pretend you never saw me, you’ll be happier that way_.

“No. We killed a _god_ , Aki. The others are going to see this as nothing more than one last challenge… Once they get over being upset with you, of course.”

“…Right. Of course.” And Akira laughed, then. A wet, choked off puff of air as he tucked Makoto against his chest and nuzzled into the top of her head. “In retrospect, I guess that _was_ pretty impressive.”

Makoto stole the last bits of his cigarette before he could remember she had taken it, and she stubbed it out into the dirt behind them. It took a taunting smile and another kiss before he finally realized what he missed. And they sat together, watching as the dull blue light of the early morning turned yellow, turned orange and shined off what little snow had managed to stick.

“You’d get upset if I promised to help rescue you.” Makoto murmured, smiling at the puff of air Akira gave as his answer. “So instead, I have something else to promise.”

“Oh?” She could feel him grinning, slow and smug and trying to bury it in her hair as if that made it any less noticeable.

“Mhmm. Because I can’t say what I want, now I have to promise you that you’re not _ever_ getting rid of me that easily.”

“Guess I’ll have to come up with something a bit sneakier in the future.” His smile grew, and he pressed a kiss to the place he was failing to hide it.

Makoto smiled back. “You could _try_ , but know that one day, _juuust_ when you think you’re safe, I’ll be there. Only a few steps behind with my face buried in a comic book, watching your every move.”

Akira’s chuckle, deep and low and throaty, rang through her body. “So, what, is this you planning a jailbreak to tell me what an idiot I am?”

“Obviously.”

Makoto turned in his arms and pressed a small, soft kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“…Everything will get better after this, Aki. Don’t give up on me now.” Makoto wasn’t sure she could keep that promise, but she wanted to be able to leave things on a high note. She wanted to be able to promise him _something_. And that promise, true or not, was better than continuing until they left each other with an argument. She _wanted_ to scream. She wanted to fight. But… she was tired, too.

She didn’t try to hug Akira when Sae’s car finally pulled up just around the corner. She didn’t wave, or squeeze his hands, or even give a big, dramatic kiss with far too much tongue for the time of day or the audience of neighbors peeking through windows that they had no doubt gained. Instead, she nodded and she smiled, as Akira turned one final time to meet her eyes.

Makoto was so unbearably sick of Akira needing to apologize for things he hadn’t done. To take the blame for _every single thing_. And she was not about to say goodbye when she knew, she _knew_ , that they would find some way to bring him back and to finally give him the peace and calm he so badly deserved.

 _See you soon_ , his expression said.

“ _See you soon. Idiot._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's sad, hooray!!!


	20. Chapter 20

It was a beautiful day.

“Akira.”

The sun was shining.

“Hey, Akira.”

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

“Akira! Hey, heeey Akira!”

And Akira was inside, lying in bed with an ash tray balanced precariously on his chest and a cigarette balanced only marginally less so between his lips. “You know,” He started with a sigh. “For someone who just came back from the dead less than a year ago, you sure are loud.”

Morgana scoffed and leapt onto the mattress. “Well! For someone who just found out his _best friend in the whole wide world_ came back to life less than a _week_ ago, you sure aren’t very excited! Besides, you’ve been laying there all day.”

Akira stayed quiet.

He dragged out his answer until there was nothing left to smoke.

Something about being bothered annoyed him in a way Morgana had never managed before, and he wanted time to think. Time to take that realization about himself and bury deep inside where no one would ever notice. “Not like there’s much else to do around here, Morgana.”

It didn’t work.

He could have apologized for the bite in those words. He _should_ have, Morgana had every right to be concerned about a friend.

Instead, he pushed a final stream of smoke through his nose. It burned, and that counted as enough of an apology in his mind, even if Morgana missed the flash of pain on his face. “I’m still running every morning, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

He could hear the _but you’re not_ die on Morgana’s tongue the moment his words broke the silence. They were both perfectly aware of why Akira’s behavior had taken the turn it did. His situation didn’t leave many options for stress relief readily available outside of the distinctly harmful variety. _The joy of small towns_ , Akira remembered joking, bitter and distant, during one of the first evenings he spent with Morgana after their surprise reunion. Morgana didn’t claim to understand, and so Akira didn’t bother preparing a speech about how it was either that – either Morgana find a way to be okay with what he was doing – or he would find something sharp and replace one method of coping with another. Something real, and tangible. Something familiar, after two years of so much hurting.

He’d also entertained the idea of stealing a bottle of cheap whiskey and borrowing his parents’ car for a quick and easy exit. Because he didn’t know how to exist anymore. Not without that constant threat of death looming overhead; not after spending so long waist deep in the needs of others day after day after day, until his own thoughts and his own desires had no choice but to fade into background noise.

Not without his family at his side.

And the thought of driving that piece of trash car straight into a wall or a lamp post or anything else solid enough to get the job done was certainly appealing.

To Morgana’s constant and vocal relief, Akira never followed through on that particular fantasy.

The memories of prison; of being forced into so many different boxes for so many different reasons, until there was nothing left but a worn-out husk was enough to dissuade Akira from going out trapped inside of another claustrophobic metal box.

The drinking and the smoking were just a bit harder for a cat to stop. Most of it, Akira eventually needed to explain, during the closest equivalent to an intervention one cat could manage, was stress. The rest – throwing himself back into every unhealthy routine he’d spent so long working to shed during his time in Tokyo – was because when he walked around town without his glasses, with his hair messed up just a bit differently, and a cigarette wrapped between his lips, most people didn’t see the kid falsely accused of orchestrating the Tokyo Mental Shutdown Incidents. They only saw some good for nothing small town scumbag, and _that_ was a level of stress; a level of anxiety and dread that Akira was far more prepared to deal with.

It wasn’t perfect, people still recognized him. Constantly. But it was enough to keep those fantasies of self-harm far enough in the distance that they stayed as just that – fantasies.

“Stop thinking so loud. Now come on come on come on, no more brooding, let’s go outside!” Morgana pressed on, and the desperate excitement in his voice managed to peel more than a few layers of Akira’s anxiety away.

A small smile twitched at the corners of his lips. “I don’t really want to deal with the cameras today. Or the people. Not exactly staying inside for no reason.”

“You still need fresh air, Mister Big Dramatic Victim of Tokyo’s Overzealous Police Department.”

“Oh? Big words for such a small kid, you got any other quips you’ve been holding back?” Akira joked, and he knew it came off as a joke despite the emptiness he felt in his voice, because Morgana was laughing that laugh. The one that sounded exactly like Futaba. Or maybe it was her laugh that sounded like his, Akira was never really sure when they started adopting each other’s habits.

He knew it came off as a joke because Morgana wasn’t stumbling to walk back that comment about those nosey strangers; wasn’t pretending as if the two of them hadn’t just finished going through years of exactly that.

He knew it came off as a joke, but hearing that time summed up so… simply, like they were never that much of an issue, cut deep enough to sting. So when Morgana didn’t follow up, Akira stayed silent for several beats too long.

Just enough to make Morgana sweat.

“Anyway, yeah… Yeah, you’re right.” He said, just as he felt Morgana’s guilt reach its limit. “Think the river’s quiet today?”

“Yup!” Came Morgana’s reply, as if the tension in the air was just a figment of their imaginations. As if the quiet never happened. “I was already down there earlier! I even scoped out at _least_ two fishermen that I could convince to hand over some snacks and everything.”

Akira laughed, quiet and breathy and resigned to his fate. The more he fought, the more easily Morgana seemed to find new footing. He moved the ash tray over to the windowsill and rolled to the side of the mattress with a groan and a sigh. He pulled his phone from the night stand. Still no texts from Makoto, so he shoved it and his lighter and the half empty, fully crumpled pack of cigarettes back into his pockets, pretending himself into nonchalance as he stood. Like the stress that drenched him every single day could ever be sloughed off so easily. At least he could pretend his way through the last few hours keeping him away from his home. “Sure, let’s head out now.”

He paused, fingers just brushing against the doorknob before he pulled away to run them through his hair.

“Are they…?”

“They’re out. I let myself in.” Morgana answered, suddenly solemn and serious. It was almost a little comforting, watching Morgana slowly learn how on edge his parents were on days when Akira stayed in. They didn’t seem sure how to act around him anymore, especially after all the news of his adventures in Tokyo. They demanded he come back. To make sure they could keep an eye on him; make sure he didn’t find some way to commit even bigger crimes, if Akira had to guess.

As if they knew anything about what happened.

His mother was scared. She hid it, poorly, behind loud words and wide smiles.

His father didn’t talk. Too disappointed with his criminal son to bother offering anything other than the occasional condescending and threatening bits of advice. Whenever he made the mistake of getting caught coming home drunk, or hurt, or even – god forbid – _late,_ his father was there to remind Akira exactly how much of a disappointment he was. Always there, always ready, at every opportunity. But he didn’t _talk_ , not really. Scoldings weren’t exactly conversations.

“Alright then, time for you to show me how good you’ve gotten at _thievery_ in my absence. Can’t have you getting rusty, now can we?”

His phone chirped in his pocket.

_FUTABA: “He’s so good now! The things I taught him…”_

_FUTABA: “You could probably even convince everyone he’s your familiar since he doesn’t have to hide.”_

_FUTABA: “You’ve got a few hours before you run away to Tokyo forever and a disappearing act will just make it more convincing!!!”_

_FUTABA: “Akira Kurusu: Phantom Thief, Criminal Mastermind, Magic Cat Haver…”_

Akira angled his phone for Morgana to see, after all the pawing and clawing to perch on his shoulder finally settled down.

~~~

The constant rattling of the subway car was becoming more and more of an annoyance with every minute, so Akira pulled out his phone. Again.

Not a single new notification from Makoto. No texts. No voicemails. Nothing.

It had been easy enough to keep in contact with the others, but Akira never caused anyone as much hurt as he did Makoto. Their final conversation before he disappeared with the early morning was proof enough. The two texts she bothered to send since his release were just a bonus.

His thumb hovered over the screen.

_MAKOTO: “Congratulations on your release! I’m sorry you have to go back to live with your parents. We’ll all be waiting for you, Akira.”_

_MAKOTO: “I hope you’re doing well, Akira. We’re all eager for your return.”_

He doubted she even wanted to hear from him. Not then, and certainly not after a year of silence. He was the one who left. Those texts were probably just a courtesy.

He never bothered to ask.

The speakers blared out a message about their arrival in Tokyo, and placed him firmly back outside of his head.

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” Akira stood. He slipped his bag back over his shoulder.

Morgana was far too lost in sleep to hear.

~~~

Akira managed barely two steps out and onto the platform before a pair of strong, sleeveless arms were scooping him up into the air.

He laughed. He laughed until there was no more air in his lungs.

Morgana, caught in the same vice grip and startled back to consciousness all at once, could only yowl for freedom.

“Akira!” The arms squeezed even tighter. “Morgana, too. How the hell are ya! It’s been too long, guys.”

People were still staring when Ryuji set him down, and Akira couldn’t help but let loose one more burst of laughter as he gathered himself back together, adjusting his glasses and rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. Because Ryuji was still holding his other arm at the elbow and yelling increasingly familiar, and just this side of too-intimate greetings.

“How’d you even know we were coming back today?” Morgana asked. He peeked, just enough to be noticed, out of the bag, as if he were anything other than ecstatic to be back home and getting the sort of welcome back that only Ryuji could give. “Aw… _aww_ , man. Our plans are probably ruined if Ryuji knows already.”

Ryuji laughed, deep, full bellied and full of a sort of knowing that felt entirely foreign on his face and in his voice. “Not ruined, not ruined. Taba made me promise not t’ ruin the surprise.” He sighed then, but the smile never left his face. “I figure you’ve got yer reasons for wanting t’ sneak in one afternoon to yourselves before the rest of us are all over ya. One reason in particular.”

The wiggle of Ryuji’s eyebrows might have been enough to keep Akira smiling on any other day. If events had unfolded in any other way.

Instead, he took in a sharp breath and darted his head to the side. He knew Ryuji would recognize the move before he even started, but he wasn’t completely sure he wanted Ryuji to miss it.

“Akira.” He asked, sobered and calm and nothing at all like he’d been acting only seconds ago. “What’s wrong.”

Akira looked back, like Ryuji’s answer was at all a surprise, and he gestured ahead. He adjusted the strap of his bag and made sure Morgana was comfortable. Hiding the truth wouldn’t accomplish anything, and at the very least, they could have their conversation somewhere more fitting than the edge of a subway platform with all eyes still – _still_ , because they never really left – on them.

Beef bowls.

It was a beef bowls kind of conversation.

Ryuji seemed to agree, because he waited with the patience of a saint until they were served their meals, and his words had to fight their way past a mouthful of food to be understood. “So. W’happ’ned.”

Akira tried to smile.

“We uh… didn’t exactly leave things on the best note. I haven’t really tried to reach out to her since then, either.” He hoped Ryuji would let that answer be enough, because he knew Ryuji had something to the tune of _Bull_ shit _you didn’t try, I know you. Not followin’ through ain’t the same thing_ hiding behind that newest bite of just a little rice and way too much beef. Because there was a look of understanding in Ryuji’s eyes, like he knew something Akira didn’t and he couldn’t wait for Akira to figure out what it was. But mostly, selfishly, because the only thing to fill him with the same sort of exhaustion as the Metaverse was _explaining_ , and the last thing he wanted; after everything; on his first day home, was to explain another one of his terrible choices.

He knew what he did.

He knew what that night must have looked like to her. He didn’t need to be scolded for it when that look of pity on Ryuji’s face was accomplishing more than enough on its own.

It wasn’t as if he _wanted_ things to turn out like they did. He wanted to be with Makoto more than anything. He wished that wanting her was enough.

He wished he ever found the strength to answer those texts.

~~~

Ann, Akira should have realized sooner, was far less willing to let him off the hook with a simple little _I ruined everything, how’s your day?_

Running into her after the meal with Ryuji was a complete coincidence, a detail that only seemed to encourage both her and Ryuji to be as loud and excitable as they possibly could when they locked eyes in the street.

“Yo! Ann! Look who I found!” Ryuji shouted, startling and parting at least half of a path into the crowd in front of him.

The scream Ann failed to hide behind her hands cleared the rest.

“I didn’t know you were coming back today!” She laughed. And she lifted Akira up off the ground every bit as easily as Ryuji had earlier, spinning and kissing and squeezing until they were all right around the corner of some no-name shop, and she was too dizzy to keep the greeting going any longer. “Why didn’t you say anything, we could’ve celebrated!”

Akira pulled her back into his arms the instant she let go, and Ann crashed against his chest with a giggle and a tiny, satisfied sigh. “That was kind of the point. Wanted to surprise everyone now as payback for whatever you’ve got planned for tomorrow.”

“That sure we’re working on something, huh?” She buried her grin in the crook of his neck, huge and drenched in the knowledge she’d been caught red-handed but still unwilling to give herself up. The lack of reply from Akira was all it took for her to huff and shove herself back a respectable distance away. “…Oh fine, we’ve got a big big party planned for tomorrow at Leblanc. It was _supposed_ to be a big big surprise, but honestly, I don’t know why we thought we’d ever be able to pull one over on you.”

She pushed on at the sight of Akira’s renewed laughter. “ _Anyway_. I’m sure you’re excited to go spend a nice romantic evening with Makoto, so I won’t hold you up anymore. Go be lovey dovey and let us squeeze out aaalll the details tomorrow so we can get back to teasing you two. It’s been _so_ long!”

The look Ryuji glared into the side of Ann’s head was so strong that even Akira could feel it. She seemed to absorb the meaning in an instant, and even somehow directed its entire force on Akira before he had the slightest chance of escape. He shrunk immediately under that look, and settled for the same reaction he gave to Ryuji. Looking away and rubbing uselessly at the back of his neck like nothing was wrong at all.

Her glare softened to outright concern as soon as she started speaking. “What happened, Akira?”

“…Makoto hasn’t mentioned anything?”

“Answer my question first.” She sighed, raising a hand to her brow like she immediately regretted having asked.

Akira took an unsteady breath, and exhaled even less steady, before starting. “She was mad. At me. For leaving, I mean. I hid it from her until the absolute last second, and she… I could feel how badly she wanted to scream. Which I understand, all I ever did was leave. Even before… _this_.” Akira stopped. He sucked his lower lip between his teeth and bit down, just hard enough to bruise. “It’s not… good, or healthy, or… worth it, to be like that. So I understand why she’s mad.”

When Akira looked up, he saw Ann giving him a sad, gentle smile. Her eyes were filled with that same emotion he’d seen floating through Ryuji’s, earlier.

“Do you really think that?” She asked.

Everyone wanted him to be aware of some important detail, but no one was willing to tell him what it was.

He didn’t have an answer, but Ann accepted his silence as one. She hugged him again – this time letting his feet stay attached to the ground – and whispered just loud enough to be heard over the crowd. “Go talk to her, Akira. She’s at Leblanc today, stop wasting time on the rest of us.”

“Yeah.” Ryuji finally chimed back in, slapping a hand just between his shoulder blades and rubbing at the spot. “Don’t – don’t try t’ put this off any more, dude. You need t’ get this sorted out _now_.”

“Alright.” He murmured, turning to bury his nose in Ann’s hair.

“Alright. I will.” He promised, again, when Ryuji wrapped the both of them up into one big group hug.

~~~

Akira waited until they were alone, just himself and Morgana and the silence of night in the Yongen backstreets. “You’ve been quiet ever since we got back, Morgana.”

Morgana didn’t answer, but he _did_ peek his head out from the bag.

“You know something, don’t you?” He tried, again.

When it was clear he wasn’t getting an answer, Akira dropped the matter entirely.

And then Futaba was walking out of Leblanc. And so was Haru. And Yusuke. And he was being gathered up into another hug; too big, too strong, full of too much love. Each of them expressed the exact same look of disbelief he’d seen from Ryuji, and from Ann, and even Morgana, once their shock had run its course.

That, at least, wasn’t surprising.

Obviously he was missing something, he knew that much.

What caught his attention, far more than Haru’s shocked outburst or Yusuke’s stoic frown, was Futaba. She knew perfectly well how things stood between the two of them; the difference was that she had also been around Makoto over the past year. It was a fact that caused Akira to register the worry in her eyes as the clearest sign yet that he needed to find Makoto, and soon.

“Go fix things, dummy.” Haru whispered, only once she had Akira safely tucked away into one final hug.

~~~

As expected, the doorbell wasn’t enough to pull Sojiro’s attention away from the kitchen.

Chances were, he saw enough of the scene outside to know what was coming, so Akira took advantage of the moment and slid into the center seat at the bar. Morgana leapt from his bag and darted to the booth closest to the door the instant Akira shrugged it off.

A few short bursts of noise drifted down from the attic as Sojiro served a drink. Footsteps; someone climbing out of bed.

Akira tensed, half expecting another round of questioning about Makoto, but after looking Akira up and down, Sojiro returned to the kitchen without a word.

For a split second, Akira thought he might have escaped whatever conversation he expected, but once Sojiro finally settled back in front of the stove, he started talking. Like they were picking up something recently left unfinished and Akira hadn’t really been gone for months.

“You’re looking good, kid. Sleep agrees with you.”

Akira ducked his head and let out a completely humorless laugh. He hadn’t actually slept any more than usual during his year away, so, no, it didn’t exactly agree with him. But it never really had a chance to matter, with how he’d been acting.

And then Makoto was stumbling down the stairs, out of breath and on the edge of tears as she clutched her phone in her hands and stared Akira down like a deer in headlights. Akira froze, even though the knowledge that he still recognized the sound of her footsteps tried _so_ hard to make him grin. Makoto’s mouth opened, and she tried to talk, but she couldn’t. And so she gave up, focused on recovering; brushing herself off and steadying her breath.

It took the sight of her standing there, running her hands down her front and making sure her clothes hadn’t somehow thrown themselves off for Akira to notice. She was wearing that hoodie again. The same one she had on the morning he disappeared. The fabric was worn and faded, and there were holes scattered around the edges of the sleeves and the bottommost hem, but it was unmistakable.

Makoto sat down beside him without a word. She didn’t meet his eyes again, settling instead for placing her phone on the bar between them, and dropping her head against his shoulder.

Texts were still flying across the screen almost too fast to read; Futaba asking if she was okay; Ann wondering why she’d never mentioned what was going on between her and Akira; and even Yusuke, wishing her the best and promising that whatever happened was _obviously a misunderstanding brought about by Akira being Akira_.

And something finally clicked inside Akira’s mind.

He felt like nothing less than the guiltiest idiot on earth.

He didn’t miss the sniffle Makoto tried to hide under the clatter of Sojiro setting down her drink. He didn’t miss that Sojiro set the cup down just a bit harder than normal for exactly that purpose, either.

“It’s good you’re finally back.” Sojiro cut in before anyone else had a chance to talk. “Don’t worry about cleaning up today. Food’s ready if either of you are in the mood.”

Then Morgana was perched securely on Sojiro’s shoulder, and they both were gone.

Akira didn’t say a word. He let himself sit with the reality of everything slowly filling the room.

Slowly, hesitantly, he lifted his arm to wrap around Makoto’s shoulder. She didn’t make the slightest effort to move away, so he pulled her closer; let her settle into a much more comfortable position.

“You scared me today.” She whispered, so small and broken that Akira almost didn’t recognize the voice.

He didn’t answer.

She breathed deep before saying anything more.

“I thought… I gave you space, when you were away.” The strength in her voice was returning, just barely, and that alone was enough to bring the smallest of smiles to Akira’s face. “Because that seemed like the best option, given how we left everything… I still want to yell at you for trying to keep it all a secret, by the way.”

“I know. I haven’t… this year hasn’t exactly been a good one.” If Makoto could sense any of what he was feeling, what he’d done and thought and barely managed to pull himself away from, she didn’t let it bother her. She settled further into his arms, and her silence felt distinctly different from a dismissal of how he’d acted during the past year, Akira realized. Her silence washed over him like she meant to say that she would be there until the end, no matter what, and everything he’d done when they were apart was just more for her to excuse, and to forgive, and to accept with open arms as part of who he was.

And it was a wonderful sentiment, but Akira wasn’t sure things were allowed to be that easy. Being around Makoto, and being around every single one of their friends helped him move farther past one of the darkest times in his life in ways he never thought possible. But there he was, just one year; just twelve short months on his own later; relapsed so far that he crashed straight through the barrier signaling his starting point to find something even worse.

The days in prison after trying to help that stranger on the street were bad. The days after everything reset, after he had to claw his way back to normalcy were worse. But that year back in the country was something else entirely, and going back to normal would never be so simple as it was in the past.

“You didn’t even get _one day_ to spend with us before they sent you back to your parents. And… and you just…” Makoto sighed, and she reached out to let her fingers draw across his back, to settle against his waist. Her touch drew fire across his skin. He hadn't realized exactly how much he missed that feeling. How much he missed  _her_. “I missed you so much. Idiot.”

“I know.”

“ _Idiot._ ”

“I know.” He smiled, more to himself than anything. “…Look at us. What a mess.”

Makoto chuckled, and she tucked herself closer into his side. “Nothing left to fight against and we forget how to talk to each other.”

Akira’s smile was a little frayed and a little cautious, but he was happy. And when Makoto untangled herself from Akira to lock the door, to brush her hands along the sensitive skin of his wrists and urge him toward the stairs at the back, he followed without a word and without a question.

They moved to the attic, not like everything was fine – because it wasn’t – but like two people that finally had time to fix what had been broken. Like people who had spent too long doing nothing but running and running and _running_ , and had finally risked looking over their shoulders to find that the danger was truly gone.

That they were finally safe.

Akira followed. And for once, he felt confident that the morning wouldn’t be waiting to steal their peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this has been, something.
> 
> Thanks to all of you for sticking around to the end!


End file.
